


Betrothed

by Archangelsings



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Will add more as needed
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Graphic Violence, High Fantasy AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangelsings/pseuds/Archangelsings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The price of love has never been cheap. Love is a hard thing to come by, and an even harder thing to keep. It's something that comes with sacrifice. But some sacrifices are higher than others... is the price for this love worth it? Nico/Percy</p><p>"It's not like he'd meant for it to happen–No, it just sort of did. It's not like he had wanted the curse to fall on them– on the kingdom, their families – but it did. He didn't mean for things to escalate so quickly, so forcefully, so strongly. It didn't matter what he said, what he believed. It didn't matter that he was supposed to be getting married; that he was betrothed to another– to Annabeth. None of that occurred to him, especially not when he had the poor servant boy trapped beneath him. Not when his lips molded against his. Not when he'd crane his neck back and beg for more. He could push all those thoughts away and pretend that this was meant to be.</p><p>But little ever really was."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sins of Youthful Love

**Author's Note:**

> In which Percy and Nico's journey takes a foreboding turn for the worst

- **Betrothed-**  


_**The Sins of Youthful Love** _

It's not like he'd meant for it to happen–No, it just sort of did. It's not like he had wanted the curse to fall on them– on the kingdom, their familie s – but it did. He didn't mean for things to escalate so quickly, so forcefully, so strongly. It didn't matter what he said, what he believed. It didn't matter that he was supposed to be getting married; that he was betrothed to another– to Annabeth. None of that occurred to him, especially not when he had the poor servant boy trapped beneath him. Not when his lips molded against his. Not when he'd crane his neck back and beg for more. He could push all those thoughts away and pretend that  _this_  was meant to be.

But little ever really was.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


The room was silent but that wasn't a surprise to anyone. Neither was the emptiness, the feeling of deep sadness; that stretched across the table, seeping through cracks, doors, and windows. Nothing could stop it. Nothing could block it. Droughts and famine plagued the lands. Earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, and thunderstorms, Mother Nature threw everything she could at the heads of mankind. The people grew disheartened. The people grew angry. Unrest filled the hearts of all.

The curse had struck.

It was a disease of both the body and mind; a disease that was not only affecting the royal family but everything, everyone. It was death's vengeful mistress, enraged at her secondary position, pitting her children– despair and fury– against the wits of man.

Candle light flickered overhead, dancing on the walls, as the chandeliers above the great hall swayed gently with the crisp winter air. It was cold but no one felt like shrugging his or her shoulders against the bitter bite. They didn't see a point. They didn't see a point to much of anything anymore. Well, everyone but the youngest prince; the youngest prince of the name Peruses Jackson–the Prince of the Sea.

He still had reason to live. He could still find joy in these dark times. He could find reasons to smile while all else frowned and turned to despair. His sea green eyes scanned the room, lifting his hand casually to guide the waterlogged soup to his lips. It was bland and lifeless, the few vegetables that resided in its depths had long since been devoid of their flavor. An even lesser group than him would think this preposterous.  _The royals eating like slaves? No better than commoners? Starve the populace! Tax them!_   _Crush resistance!_  Their reserves had long since been depleted, given away to their starving people, but Percy didn't complain. He knew why his father did it. He saw the wisdom behind the action even if his older brothers, Tyson and Triton, could not.

Tyson, the oldest, with his swamp green eyes and uncharacteristic red-brown hair, was the pretty boy. He was the one the people regarded as the charismatic and charming one. He had the people, both men and women, wound tightly around his finger. Despite his obvious elitist airs and views he remained a town favorite, if not only for the attractive curve of his lips. It had long since been suspected that he wasn't truly a royal, a bastard to some other in an scandalous affair, but Sally swore on the Great Goddess of the River Styx that he was in fact her child. Who, in their right mind, would dare speak against the word of the Queen? Despite this, the offer of kingship was not extended to his older brother, as was his right as the eldest of the three.

Triton, resembled his father in more ways than one, and naturally he became the favorite for succession to the throne. Women flocked in legions, seduced by his rugged and rough allure. His arms rippled with toned muscles and faded scars, a shade lighter than his tan skin, and long black hair framed his strong jaw. He looked like bad news and he wasn't short of it. He only visited the palace for two reasons: to either aid with military affairs or to deflower young maidens who ambled about his room for a night of intense passion.

Percy paled in comparison to his elder siblings. He wasn't exactly what many would consider "handsome" or "good-looking". He hung in the shadows of his brothers and his father, invisible, to even the palace servants. His black hair, forever unruly, was kept at a perpetual length that never passed his neck or fell into his eyes. Percy was skinny and gangly to the point that he appeared to border on anorexia. This, Percy declared, was the perfect disguise to mask his sly and cunning nature. He was easily one of the smartest minds in the kingdom; with tactical and worldly knowledge to rival that of a child of Athena. His natural ability in academics infuriated him. He feared loosing the favor of the night that allowed him to blend into the crowd, without so much as a whisper.

His brothers held onto that medieval belief that they were above everyone else and were naturally entitled to the luxuries they wallowed in. They claimed that the gods had imbued them with some sort of natural born power that allowed them to assert themselves over others. Percy himself scoffed at the very notion.  _How couldn't they see that it was simple luck that they were descendants of royal blood?_  They could've been just as likely to be born a peasant, as they were a royal. Though, personally, he couldn't see much of a difference. At the moment all he viewed was a large dreary castle that was always too cold because there was never enough people to truly warm up the place. They were just as hungry as the poor and the only luxury they truly had left, was their titles and noble airs.

The two oldest siblings had voted against giving away their reserves, holding tight to their self-indulgence, while their mother and father voted to give them away. Percy was the tiebreaker in the matter and he was quick to side with his father, incurring the wrath of his older two siblings.

"Why do you even let him vote father?" Tyson had whined, fixing his younger brother with a poisonous glare, his nail file slipping from his loose grasp. "Fuck," Tyson cursed bending down to retrieve it. Triton nodded silently his steely eyes fixed on the sea prince, his lips spread into a hard line, "He's not even eighteen yet." "And why does that matter?" Poseidon thundered, "You two where even younger when we gave you the right to vote." Poseidon shifted his gaze to Percy, "and we all know that Peruses is more than capable to lead," He ran a hand through his hair tiredly, "he is far more qualified than the both of you." Percy winced, as their glares grew even more ferocious. It wasn't a secret that he was their father's favorite.

He wasn't quite sure why Tyson hated him so much. The boy had no desire to be king, he'd made that much obvious, and he was more than content to freeload off the wealth of the family. As long as he still possessed his jewels and playthings, he spoke no word of insurgence. His obvious dislike for Percy confused him despite the truths of these matters. Triton viewed him as an obstacle to the throne but Tyson? What could  _he_  possibly do to him? What had he possibly _done_ to him?

Percy sighed and leaned back into his chair, shaking his dark locks with slow deliberation, as if to rid him of these thoughts. He was dreaming now. He was thinking back weeks– No, months! – No, years! –He was dwelling in the present now, eating horrid soup, and trying to catch the eye of a certain servant. One who had skillfully pretended not to hear his calls or see his longing stares. Percy had become infatuated with this servant boy who managed to make his heart flutter uncontrollably. He brought an unfamiliar red to his cheeks and awkward movements, which he hadn't known sense his early teenage years. These were actions foreign to Percy, things he'd known that were forbidden, but things he did anyways because of the feelings he felt for this servant–

His  _beloved_  servant.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


"Psst, Sabien, he's looking your way again."

Nico shrugged and grunted in response, angrily tossing the used dishes into his basket; he didn't feel like talking to the royal brat right now. Actually, he didn't feel like being here period, but of course that didn't matter. He was but  _"a lowly servant boy, dressed in rags, and meant to humbly serve and tend to all of his lieges wishes"._

He scoffed.

_Yeah right._

In actuality Nico wasn't any of those things. He was really the lost prince of the Di Angelo family, the only living heir to the fallen kingdom of Tartarus. Once, his father, Hades di Angelo, had ruled it but it had been taken over by Kronos Castellan, a bloodthirsty tyrant who only desired more power and control. Nico and Percy agreed that it was only a matter of time before the Dark King, as he had become known as, made a move against the remaining kingdoms.

Now, Nico wasn't picky by nature, he honestly had no qualms about having to become the servant boy Sabien (a guise Percy had chosen for him to live by when he'd come to Atlantis for help). He really didn't mind the work– vanity had never been an issue–and Nico had never been one to turn down an excuse to get dirty.

Before being forced to run away, the pale black haired youth would've been found in the kitchen's of Tartarus, helping his own servants prepare the next meal, or outside with the other peasant boys, carrying wood, or just rough housing in the mud. His father detested it. He didn't think that royals and commoners should mix but his mother, Maria, thought otherwise. Not that any of that mattered now. His family was dead. He had no way to travel back in time and stop it from happening, and even if he could, he doubted he would've made any difference. He was only one person and he would have no chance unless he could outwit Kronos.

Nico shoved another plate in the basket and hefted it off the ground with a grunt, head bowed he began to make his way out of the room. The servant beside him hurried to follow.

"Slow down man," He hissed, "You'll make it obvious you're tryin' to avoid him."

Nico laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Like he doesn't know already? I think it's been obvious I've been avoiding his affections."

The servant chuckled nervously, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well maybe you shouldn't. You don't know how he'll react. You know how nobles can be."

Nico scoffed, "Please, Percy's harmless." The servant shot him a look, clearly saying expressing that he didn't believe him. "Okay so maybe that's just me." Nico said slowly. The servant opened his mouth to say something else but the lost prince cut him off, "Trust me, I know all about the people he's killed and believe me when I say he wouldn't  _dare_  raise a hand to me."

"How can you be so sure?" The other boy said with a quizzical raise of his eyebrows.

The raven-haired youth shrugged. "Just do." There was nothing more he could say. It's not like he could tell him his true identity or that he in fact, knew Percy from his days of youth. That would raise too many questions and then his cover would be blown. He'd get to see his prince no more. Nico bit his lip and thought sourly,  _Shit_. He was supposed to still be mad at the green-eyed royal and _now_  he already craved his embrace.

_God damn it all._

_Damn it to the heavens._

_Why did Peruses Jackson have to have such an affect on him?_

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Tyson watched as his youngest brother tried to gain the attention of the servant boy that crossed through the dinning hall. It was exceedingly obvious that the boy was being ignored and if the sea prince's crestfallen expression was anything to go by there was definitely something else underlying his attempts. Tyson raised his watered down wine to his lips.  _Oh this would be fun to watch_ , he thought with a wicked smile. His little brother was _finally_  in love? With someone who  _wasn't_ betrothed and a boy at that? He could tease him about this for ages.

Tyson glanced around him with a wary expression. No one else seemed to be aware of Percy's affection for the servant boy and the more he dwelled on it, the more he realized the longevity of the romance at hand. There had been so many obvious signs and Tyson could not fathom how he had missed them. His sudden wardrobe change into accessories like scarves, despite that Percy had never worn them, even during the coldest winters. His sudden desire to spar with his brothers, something the sea prince would normally avoid at all costs. The tokens he'd seen laying around his room, pins and jewels, that he hadn't noticed before. It was a perfectly logical conclusion to assume that his brother was seeing someone.

Tyson's brow furrowed in deep thought. The only oddity was the nature of these jewels, which appeared quite lavish and expensive. He couldn't understand how a mere servant boy could afford to distribute such trinkets.

Tyson watched as his brother excused himself from the table. No one said anything. No one even acknowledged he was leaving. He sighed, watching his brother leave to follow the servant.  _It's really rather boring in here_ , Tyson watched fingering his lower lip with idle curiosity. He figured the romance between his brother and the servant boy was more interesting than any speech he would hear at the table. After a moment he got up to follow.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Nico heard the footsteps before he felt the hand on his shoulder. "Sabien, wait up!"

Nico sighed and turned to face the prince, setting his basket down as he did so. "I don't have time for this Peruses. I have to get these dishes back to the kitchen." Percy let out a breath and ran a hand through his ebony locks. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for–" He paused, glancing at the servant beside Nico.

"Don't mind me, just…" The servant trailed off before snatching the basket from Nico's hands and executing a short bow before speeding off. "Thanks Grover." Nico mumbled as his friend disappeared around the corner. The two stood in silence for a moment, Percy opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. Nico felt a small smile touch the corner of his lips. He found the sea prince's floundering adorable, if he was to be completely honest with himself.

"You were apologizing?" Nico finally broke the silence, waving his hand to signal that Percy continue.

Percy bit his lip and shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah, I-I was," He chuckled nervously. "Now what I was going to say sounds stupid..."

Nico rolled his eyes. "Just get on with it, I don't have all day you know."

The sea prince sighed and fiddled with his fingers. "Okay…I'm sorry, for saying what I said about your family. It was wrong and insensitive and I was out of line."

"Don't forget you're a dumb ass."

"Okay, okay, so I was an ass."

"And you're a jerk."

"And maybe a bit of a jerk." Nico shot him a look. "Okay a lot a jerk but still-"

Nico smirked before leaning forward to press his lips against Percy's ears, "Promise, I get to top and I'll forgive you."

Percy gulped and nodded. "Good," Nico breathed before pulling the prince down for a heated kiss.

"Nico, I-"

"Shut up, and kiss me dammit."

Percy growled lowly in his throat, before pushing Nico forcefully against the wall, thrusting his knee against the boy's groin. Nico gasped and Percy forced his tongue in the other boy's mouth. "Wha-what if someone see's?" Nico asked breathlessly as Percy dragged his tongue against his neck.

"Let them see." He bit his neck and Nico let out a moan.

"I need to get back to the kitchen." He managed between breaths.

"Then take this as a promise for later." Percy leaned in to kiss him again before pulling away and smirking at the flushed expression on Nico's face.

"F-fuck you," Nico said after a moment, "Now look what you've done."

Percy leaned over and whispered into the shorter boy's ear. "I'll be sure to take of that later."

Nico shivered and gulped. "I'll see you after my shift ends."

"You know where to find me." Percy said grinning mischievously.

"Ass."

"You love me."

Nico shook his head and stomped away from the dark haired prince. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it was true.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Tyson stood frozen to his spot around the corner. Had his brother said  _Nico_? Nico di Angelo?  _That_ Nico? It was impossible! There was no way Percy would do something so stupid and rash as to harbor that fugitive without telling anyone. But what if he was? Love made people do stupid, irrational things. He was more than knowledgeable in that department. Tyson glanced around the corner, taking in the raven-haired boy that stood by his brother and bit his lip. It could very well be him. He looked to be about the age and he shared the same hair and pale skin of the Di Angelo's.

Dear Goddess. It  _was_  him.

Tyson turned on his heel with a determined expression. He had a call to make.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Lips traveled against pale flesh, teeth nipping, tongue licking, slowly marking the boy in his arms. The prince ran his hands down the boys sides, his head moving back up to suck on one of the pale pink nipples now standing erect in the servant's arousal.

The servant gasped. "Percy!"

The prince grinned and looked at the black haired boy beneath him, leaning down to catch the smaller boy's lips in his. There tongues mashed and melded together, against each other, pulling each other in. The servant moaned as Percy bit his neck, sucking and nipping forcefully against the skin there, he knew there'd be a mark there in the morning, but the servant couldn't bring himself to care, right now all he wanted was to be ravaged by the prince _. His_  prince.  _His_ Percy. No one else could use that name.

At least for the night.

The servant wrapped his arms around the prince's neck, pulling him back into a heated kiss. If he could only have him for the night he'd make sure Percy remembered it. Remembered him. Made sure he'd come back. Made sure he could always find his way into his arms. Remembered. The servant bit Percy's lip and brought it into his mouth, sucking against it, his tongue wrapped around his lovers.

The prince pulled back and stared down at the boy below him, sea green eyes filled with lust, his lips swollen from their abuse, they drew the servant in, there was no way people wouldn't know the prince had been having sex and the thought that he was the one to do that to him, that he was one marking him, not Annabeth, the fact that it was his marks on Percy's flesh...that aroused him even more than before.

Percy smirked and bit his ear, "Someone's eager," He growled hotly in his ear, his breath sending shivers down the other boys spine.

The servant moaned again. "Percy, please..." He whined.

Percy grabbed the servants groin, squeezing it hard. "Please what Nico?" He whispered seductively in the smaller boys ear.

Nico gasped, and squirmed under the prince's touch, biting his lip to keep from moaning obscenely. "Please...," He tried again.

Percy looked down at the other boy, lazily massaging his partners growing arousal, through his pants. Nico gasped and moaned loudly, cheeks flushed and breathing ragged. "Please...I-I.." Nico groaned again, pained and pleasured, as Percy bit his neck, breaking skin slightly. It hurt, but it felt  _so_  good, to him. He liked it rough, and he knew Percy was mor bbye than capable in that department, more than willing to let his sadistic side out to play with the little raven haired boy. Just the thought of what he could do to him sent a pang of need to his groin.

"Percy," He moaned out as the prince bit the other side of his neck, "Percy, please...t-take me."

The sea prince licked a stripe up from the boys red neck to his ear. "Is that what you want?" Percy kissed the servant boy's clavicle, nipping lightly at the exposed flesh, running his tongue against the promiment bone.

"Y-yes," Nico gasped.

Percy's tongue moved to the hollow in the boys collarbone. "Really?"

Nico moaned, back arching slightly as the prince squeezed his arousal tighter. "Yes!" His head turned to the side, cheeks flaming, black hair plastered to his forehead, the sweet musk of sex in the air.

The taller ebony haired youth smirked down at the boy beneath him, leaning down to bite at the smaller boy's chin and leave a quick kiss on his cheek. "If you insist..." He said, playfully running a finger in lazy circles on his partner's arousal. The love he wants but can't have.

Nico grabbed Percy's hand, stopping him, and pulled his face up to his own. The prince looked at him, eyes confused, mind heavy with lust. "What's wrong?"

Nico fixed him with a strong glare, one that the young royal found adorable, if not slightly amusing. "Stop teasing and get on with it dammit." The pale boy growled forcefully.

Percy chuckled and kissed him again, chaste and sweet, a startling contrast to their desperate efforts before. "Haven't you ever heard of foreplay, Nico?"

Nico squirmed under his touch and Percy latched onto his arms, stilling his movement. Nico glared. "You've been doing that for the past thirty minutes, I think I'm entitled to some pleasure."

Percy pouted, his lower lip jutting out into a slight frown, the look  _almost_ made Nico recant his statement, it was just too adorable, seeing the prince, the one who'd slain  _hundreds_ , pouting.  _Almost_. But he  _really_ wanted something more than the few licks and kisses and strokes the prince was giving him. "You're no fun Nico."

"And you're a tease."

"We don't have to worry about time you know."

"Well then we can do some more later, right now I just want you to fuck me."

Percy smirked. "Well aren't you direct."

Nico leaned up as far as he could with the sea prince's body pressing down on his and licked his prince's ear. "I live to please my leige." He purred, Percy shivered.

Percy snorted and ground his hips against the servant. Nico's eyes rolled back and he bit his lip, supressing a moan. "More like to be pleased."

"Touche," Nico panted out after a moment, "But you like it too."

"Can't argue there."

Nico shot him a look. "Well?"

The prince sighed and reached into the other boy's pants, moving his hand, down, down, down, down... Nico clung to Percy tighter. "Is this what you wanted?" The prince groped the small boys ass with his calloused fingers. The hands of a worker. Strong hands. Manly hands. Nico shivered and nodded. "What about...," the sea prince moved his hand slightly to the left, feeling for one place in particular. "...this?" Percy slowly dragged a finger over the boys entrance; if the trembling the boy below him exuded was anything to go by it was a yes.

Percy stopped and removed his hands from Nico's pants. The pale raven haired youth pouted. "Tease."

The prince scoffed and placed three fingers besides the boy's mouth. "Suck." He commanded, his voice taking on a husky, lust filled quality that brokered no aurgument, knowing how much of a turn on the younger lad found it; Nico did as he was told, eyes fixed on sea green, who was he to deny his prince?

Percy bit his lip, suppressing a moan; feeling Nico's tongue run through his fingers, licking sensually at the tips, seeing the pure lust, the desire, the  _need_ , in his eyes, it fueled the prince's libido to no end. Without breaking eye contact he reached behind him, feeling down the boy's chest to his waist, grabbing onto the hem of the servant's trousers, pulling them down, down, down.

"Lift your hips," The prince commanded. His voice came out wrecked, it was obvious just how much he wanted to take the smaller boy right then and there, but he wouldn't, he didn't want to hurt him...well...not  _too_ much. " and bend your knees." The servant did as he was told and Percy pulled his pants the rest of the way down. Nico let out a muffled sigh of relief now that the woolen britches weren't restraining his manhood. As time had gone on they had become increasingly uncomfortable, the scratchy wool was not something you would want rubbing against yourself for too long.

Percy removed his fingers from the now naked boy's mouth with a pop, before running them down to the boy's puckered entrance.

"Spread your legs." Nico obliged and Percy lined his saliva lubed fingers with his hole. "Ready?"

The raven haired youth nodded and moaned in a pained pleasure as he felt the first two fingers enter him. "Fuck!" He cried out, as he felt the prince stretching him, wiggling his fingers against the walls of his ass, probing and widening with every thrust. He felt his fingers drag inside of him, sending waves of pleasure through his body, poking around, searching for one spot in particular, one that would drive him crazy with ecstasy.

Percy added the third finger and Nico moaned, back arching slightly off the bed, getting hard again as the prince finger fucked him violently. Angle after angle, thrust after thrust, he felt himself growing looser, more accustomed to the fullness, his need growing stronger. He moved his hips in time with his thrusts, pushing it in deeper, and deeper, moving, around until, finally, it hit that spot he'd been craving for so long.

He gasped in ecstasy, vision going white, body arching almost painfully off the bed, wrenching a long and dirty moan from his lips.

"There!" He cried out. "There! Do that again."

Percy smirked and obliged his young lover, watching as the smaller boys member began to leak it's fluids, standing proudly in the air. Percy gulped, his own dick throbbing at the sight, and he leaned down, taking the member into his mouth.

His tongue swirled around it, and his head bobbed up and down, his fingers still thrusting in and out. Finally though he stopped and pulled away, taking his fingers from his lovers hole, leaving him feeling empty and disappointed.

"What are you doing?" Nico demanded.

Percy smirked. "You're topping tonight remember?"

"Oh that's right..." A devilish grin washed over his face. "Well then." He pushed the sea prince onto his back and removed his loves pants. "I think it's time to make good on our deal."

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Tyson stared into the fountain biting his lip. Did he _really_  want to do this? Calling Kronos' army here, giving away the Lost Prince. What consequences would that hold for himself? For his kingdom?

Tyson smirked. Maybe by doing this he'd make an ally of the Dark King, maybe he'd be lenient to his people when he decided to strike. Maybe they could finally get out of this desperate situation they were in.

Yes, he was going to make everything better. Everything would be fine after making this call. He tossed the coin into the water's surface and spoke the incantation. The water stopped flowing and began to shimmer in the night air.

After a moment a blonde face appeared in the surface. Tyson cleared his throat. The boy looked up and jumped in his seat, dropping the book in his hand. "And you are?"

"Tyson Jackson, of Atlantis."

"Apollo Castellan, of well...I don't really know who we are." The boy paused, "What do you want?"

"To speak with you're father...I-I think I found the Lost Prince."

The blonde raised a brow. "Really now?' Tyson nodded. "Well...I'll just be a moment."

"Okay." The boy disappeared from view and Tyson paused, conflicted. Was this  _really_ the best thing to do? He took a breath as an older man's face slid into view. Well there was no backing out now.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Percy awoke to the sound of screaming and the feeling of warmth being wrenched away from him. Instantly his eyes shot open, and he scanned the room. Soldiers had aligned themselves against the walls of his room. What the  _hell_ was going on? Where was Nico?

"Nico?" He called out, jumping out of the bed, silently thanking himself for putting on boxers the night before.

A muffled cry met his and Percy quickly threw on a shirt and reached for Riptide, removing it from its resting place besides his chair.

"Sire, we can't let you leave, the room." One soldier said as he approached the door.

"Why the hell not?" He yelled, infuriated that they would try and keep him from Nico.

"We're under attack sir–Kronos's army. Apparently they found the Lost Prince here." Percy stilled and felt his blood running cold. How could they have found out? They'd been so careful in hiding it. His world tilted violently and he grabbed for the nearby wall to support himself.

"I have to get out there," He whispered.

"Sire I can't let y-"

"Move out of my damn way," He growled, "Before I cut you down myself!" He drew his rapier for added effect.

The guard gulped and backed away. He knew like everyone else not to trifle with Percy. His threats were not to be taken lightly. Percy inhaled sharply before beginning a brisk pace through the hallway, drawing closer to the loud screams and clangs of weapons.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Triton's broadsword swung through the air, cutting down any and everyone in his path. He was beyond angry. He was  _furious_. Vengeful! Pissed to the extreme. Kronos dared attack them? To attack Atlantis, one of the first kingdoms to rise, and expect nothing in retaliation was suicide. Triton gave a bitter laugh as he hefted his blade, cutting the head off an enemy shoulder in the process. He continued, unfazed, as blood splattered his tunic. At least he could enjoy himself a little. He glanced around the room in a quick sweep and a flurry of motion from the corner of the room caught his eye. He gave a curt nod to the figure that had just entered the room.

Percy.

Percy continued forward, slicing, and stabbing all the while. He moved with grace and deadly precision, dodging strikes and timing everything to the last second. He eliminated any and all in an hauntingly beautiful manner. Triton silently thanked the gods that Percy fought for their side.

"Where did they go?" He asked when he reached his side.

"Who?"

"Kronos."

"Wha-?"

"He had to have been here, he's not the type of man to just leave his dirty work to the lowly peasants, he'd get the job done himself."

Triton shrugged and Percy stabbed at someone behind him.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"What's that bastard here for anyway?"

Percy gave him a calculating look before mumbling, "The Lost Prince."

Triton opened his mouth to say more but Percy ran off before he could, and Triton was sucked back into the fray of battle.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Percy ran through the halls of the castle, glancing out the window and onto the fires of the countryside. They were being crushed. Atlantis was falling.

Percy bit his lip and tore his gaze from the sorry sight beside him and kept running. He had to find Kronos. He had to find Nico. Nothing else mattered right now. Finally he made it to the courtyard and he stopped in front of an open sewer drain. His suspicions had been right. They had come through here, entering from the farthest corner from the capital as to not draw attention to them too soon.

The sea prince dropped into the tunnel, grimacing at the foul smell, shifting Riptide to his left hand. It wasn't an ideal route but little else mattered.

Right now, he had a prince to save.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Nico struggled in the Dark King's grasp. "Put me down! What the hell do you want from me?!"

Kronos continued to slosh through the guck of the sewers, chuckling lightly.

"Why the heck am I still alive anyway? Huh? Don't you want me dead? Don't you want to make sure no one will question your authority in Tartarus?!"

Kronos laughed again, a dark throaty sound. "Don't tempt me boy." Nico closed his mouth with a sour frown. Kronos continued, "and to answer your questions; there will always be people to resist command, eventually I will fall, but that, my dear Nico, will not happen for a very long time." He paused before continuing. "See, you're more use to me alive than dead. I can use you as a bargaining chip to your people who seem to love you dearly and for the royals of Atlantis."

Nico stiffened. "W-what do you mean?"

"Don't try and hide it from me, boy. I have already spoken the Sea Prince's brother, Tyson. I know all about your relationship with him. Don't you think he'd do  _anything_  to keep you alive?"

Nico gulped but tried to keep his voice steady. He couldn't believe his brother had ratted him out. "Percy, he-he'll stop you."

"You don't sound very convinced."

"I'd rather him alive then dead."

"Are you that scared of me?"

There was a short pause before Nico answered. "Yes. I saw what you did to my family. I know how much of a monster you are."

Kronos gave a dark laugh in return. A light filtered in from above not too far from where they were standing and Nico found himself standing underneath the clamor of another troop of armed forces. Kronos heaved Nico out of the sewer and onto the ground roughly.

"Apollo, ready the steads, we move out now." Kronos strode forward confidently.

A blonde, handsome face poked out of the wagon and responded quicky, "Yes father." Nico scanned the area and his eyes landed on Tyson. The red haired prince glanced to the side with feigned nonchalance under Nico's daggered stare.

"Come along boy," Kronos told him with a sharp jab to his spine. "You," He pointed to Tyson, "Get in too."

They all loaded into the caravan and Nico had his wrists and feet bound. The carriage lurched forward and they began moving forward away from Atlantis. They moved steadily towards a place that Nico was all too familiar with. A place that he had, not too long ago, regarded as home.

Tartarus.

  
**-** _**Betrothed** _ **-**  


Percy stood breathlessly in the clearing.

"DAMMIT!" He screamed, throwing his rapier to the ground, and punching a tree with all his might. He was too late. Nico was gone. Probably killed and strung up like a trophy to be toted back to Tartarus, to wave as a trophy to encourage the masses to panic. He knew they had been here and that he had failed to save Nico.

The sea prince felt his throat tighten with the familiar sensation of sorrow and he sunk to the ground, with dry sobs wracking his body.  _This can't be happening_ , Percy thought. This couldn't be how it ended. Alone and forced to marry a woman he had no feelings for. He dug the tip of Riptide into the loose soil beside him. He didn't lift his head, even to acknowledge Triton's heavy and foreboding presence behind him.

His heart had finally broken.

The curse had finally taken its hold on him.

He had fallen into Despair.

_**-Betrothed-** _

_**The Sins of Youthful Love** _

**~End~**


	2. Sins of Lust Filled Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .... I'm sorry (not really) bUUUUUUT i got lazy and still havent edited it... I cant really be bothered at this time I mean.... do u see how long this thing is? (EXCUSE THE ERRORS! *Unbeta'd)
> 
> Aka In which Percy is kinda catatonic and Nico's sorta losing his mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemmeee know whatcha think :3

- **Betrothed-**  


_**Sins of Lust Filled Love** _

_Percy scanned the room, sea green eyes drawn to the erratic, disorderly, uncontrollable forms of unruly males, their antics nothing if not unsightly. Annoying. He felt exposed as he walked into the classroom; vulnerable, if not slightly superior and didn't understand why he had to endure this torture. There had been nothing wrong with his old school in Atlantis; there, people knew to leave him alone, there the people knew of his status and respected it. No harsh words need be exchanged, no insults to ones lineage, no slander to ones bloodline required. There had been a routine in Atlantis, one that saved ones pride and everyone followed. One that made it clear what was and was not exceptable. But here that was different. Here there was the lawlessness of a country tavern. Here he feared he may have to resort to such tactics to avoid being bothered. These "free" people seemed to have no notion of the word "privacy"._

_Percy sighed and chose a desk in the furthest corner of the room, setting his rapier Riptide beside him and resting his head in the crook of his arm, angling himself away from the group in an obvious attempt to try to remain as disconnected from them as possible; a fact he hoped would be seen and not ignored. It had been a parting gift from his father, a sign of his trust in Percy's abilities to grow and succeed. A constant reminder of the words he had spoken to him on the long ride here. Words he'd wish he could forget._

_"Befriend them Perseus, make them your allies, you may never know when you may be in need of their assistance."_

_He scoffed. He had no desire to be among these strange people, he had no desire to be in this new environment but his father had demanded it, claiming that he was too introverted, too reclusive, too into himself and didn't interact enough with others. So here he was, in this foreign place, this foreign school, this foreign land, with its strange foreign ideas. Ideas like rule by the people, Democracy, a land without a king, a land free of a monarch or ruling family, a land full of disorder and promiscuity. He shivered from the very notion._

_"Cold?"_

_Percy turned, sea green eyes meeting deep brown, momentarily losing himself in their depths against his better judgment. That was unnatural, that went against everything he strived to be, disconnected; what was his mind doing to him? He turned away as nonchalantly as possible, hoping it wasn't obvious that he had been staring. "That's not really your concern is it?"_

_The boy laughed, placing a hand on his hip, the action making his raven black curls bounce and glint in the air. He was fairly handsome, Percy conceded, though that still explained nothing of the strange fluttering in his chest, he'd seen plenty of handsome men back in the castle that didn't incite this reaction. The sea prince scrunched his face and moved to bury his head deeper into his arms._

_"No I suppose it's not," The pale youth replied. "Though I would very much like it to be."_

_Percy shot the boy a look. "You're awfully invasive aren't you?"_

_"So I've been told," He paused before holding out his hand. "The name's Nico, Nico di Angelo First Prince of Tarta-"_

_Percy cut him off. "Tartarus, I'm aware."_

_Nico rubbed the back of his head, his hand still held out for a shake. "I see... and you are?"_

_Percy eyed the hand lazily for a moment, his critical mind calculating the possible advantages and disadvantages of accepting his hand. Percy shrugged to himself and slowly held out his own. What could it hurt? He'd be fulfilling his father's request, he was making friends._

_"Percy of-" He stopped himself the second half of his father's message playing in his head._

_"Do not tell them of your lineage. Let them come to follow you for who you are, not what your title says you are." He scoffed to himself. He didn't understand why he should hide who he was. He was a third prince, there was nothing they could gain from someone so far down the line for the throne. No matter though, he'd obey his father's wishes._

_"-of... Olympus." Percy lied quickly. "Third son of Deadalus the Architect."_

_First rule of lying, be sure you can back it up. He was betrothed to his daughter, Annabeth; he knew just about everything there was to know about that family. The perfect cover._

_"Well nice to meet you Percy of Olympus," Nico smiled, a small seductive smile, and Percy felt his cheeks tinging red. He quickly turned away from the boy prince, mortified by his reaction._

_Just what was wrong with him?_

- **Betrothed-**  


"He's been inconsolable for near a week your highness, nothing we do brings the young prince out of his stupor."

The Queen sighed, looking on at her third son with sad, tired eyes. They had lost so much in the battle for Atlantis. Their once beautiful and ancient city lay in ruin, their treasury plundered, leaving virtually nothing to pay for the repairs they so gravelly needed. Her first born son was missing, most likely dead, tossed aside in some nondescript bog never to be seen again, her husband lay in bed, his battle wounds slowly festering with some un-nameable poison that slowly sapped him of his strength, and her third son had fallen prey to the curse. He'd fallen into despair.

And how badly they needed him. It was just too much for her to organize on her own. She needed her Percy; his level headed thinking that could easily prioritize and order things in the most dire of circumstances, the mind that could put Triton in his place; the sound of his voice a balm on her severely taxed nerves in these hard times.

"Have you tried contacting Annabeth? Perhaps the sound of the voice of his betrothed would revive him." She turned away, barely able to keep her composure, unable to handle the sight in front of her, of her broken son; missing the sympathetic look the handmaid gave her; the Queen seemed to be the only one who didn't know who really held her sons heart.

This wasn't her Percy, this was some foreign facade, a demon inhabiting his body. She couldn't stand looking at this, seeing her baby boy so distant, empty, gone. She had wept for so many nights, thinking of all that was wrong in her life, asking that one important question. Why? Why did all of this have to happen to them? In their time? Why couldn't they continue on in the peaceful and prosperous way they had been before?

"We tried your highness, but her father refuses to let his daughter traverse the Continent in these harsh times."

The Queen rubbed her temples, and took a breath, her eyes landing for an instant on her son, sitting on the chair by the window, looking out but not seeing. Empty. Blank. His eyes were turned within, lost in his memories, the person Percy had been, trapped in his regret, his guilt, his anger and sadness, locked away in his youth, while his body aged, growing frail, dirty, decrepit.

Even now the light did nothing to flatter him. It brought out those flaws, those things rather left unnoticed, like his sunken cheeks, and tired eyes. How his clothes hung loosely on his bony frame, looking more dead than alive, like a single gust of wind would blow him to oblivion. There was no strength to him, no substance, his skin taking on a sickly pallor. Sally turned away again, a single tear falling from her eye.

"I suppose that only makes sense, I wouldn't send my children halfway across the Continent in a time like this either," The Queen replied.

Oh how her heart ached! How her body and soul cried out for her children, for her husband, her kingdom, the thing she had spent close to twenty years cultivating, spilled her sweat and blood into creating.

"I must leave. My soul can not stand this despair much longer. It begins to ail me in my growing age."

"Of course my lady, is there any place you would to go in particular?"

Sally paused for a moment, looking out the window. "The pavilion would be nice, it is such a lovely day after all, my heart aches for a more uplifting atmosphere."

The handmaid held out her arm to steady the other woman, feeling a slight pang of sadness at the state this tragedy had reduced her queen too. She was not particularly old, the Queen, just a bare few years over thirty, yet she knew sorrow was a heavy burden, she had seen it break stronger men in her time.

"Right this way your majesty."

The door shut behind the two with a bang and the room was plunged into silence, though the sudden sound managed to cut through the young sea-prince's stupor. He jumped in his chair, becoming painfully aware of the poor shape his body was in. The gnawing hunger in his belly, the unpleasant aroma that wafted into his nose that showed him to not be clean. He saw the lusterless look in his eyes, the greasy, oily, quality his hair had undertaken. It was pathetic, he knew it was, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

_Nico._

That was the only word... the only name that played in his head. Over and over again, it moved like a self proclaimed mantra, it was the only thing that held any meaning for him, the only thing that mattered.

_Nico. Nico. Nico. Nico._

He tried to stand, but he was too tired, his legs could no longer withstand his weight, he could do nothing more than a weak half hearted crawl, one that he quickly gave up on.

His room was much as he'd left it, he didn't even think the sheets had been changed off the bed from that night. That last wonderfully blissful night where he'd called out Nico's name in pure ecstasy, as he was undone by his fingers, his lips, his very being. The last time they were able to be one, joined at the hip, inseparable and in love.

_Nico._

His Nico. His Lost Prince. His servant. His other half. His true partner in life. Not Annabeth. Not that ignorant architects daughter. Nico. And he was gone. Leaving him all alone. Leaving him without his dry, dark wit, and his unique perspective. Leaving him empty.

_Nico._

Percy began to crawl across the floor again, eyes locked on his bed, the prospect of a chance to remember, to remember how he smelled, how he felt in his arms, the sounds he'd make, the tiny mewls of pleasure as they kissed, too strong to pass up. It was slow work, tiring for his unused muscles, but progress he made all the same. For he had a goal, and he would reach it. Then... only then... he could forget. He could seclude himself in memories, go back to that time when he was blissfully ignorant, when he cared for nothing.

He reached the bed and stopped, catching his breath, his heart pounding in his chest, blood roaring through his veins for the first time in days. His body burned, it ached in protest, sending small agonizing bursts of pain through his limbs, telling him to stop, that it wasn't worth it. But he didn't listen because his body was wrong. He needed this. He needed...

"Nico," The name came out like a whisper on his tongue, foreign and unsure, his voice raspy from the lack of use. "Nico," He said again, pulling the sheet off the bed, covering his face with it, inhaling deeply, taking in that smokey, earthy scent that had clung to his lover, that had been uniquely his, Nico's.

"Ni-c-co," His voice came out stronger this time, but now it was uncontrollable, emotion spilled over his eyelids in the form of hot salty tears, tears of remembering, tears he didn't want shed. They fell down his face in rivulets, soaking his face, a physical manifestation of his pain. A pain he didn't want to feel. It was too harsh, too concrete, too real. He didn't want this reality to be true. He only wished to remember, to remember his love as he was, beautiful and alive, not this dark mysterious dead that he didn't want to even contemplate.

"Nico," Percy curled into his side bringing the sheet with him, balling it up against him, burying his face in its depths, imagining it was the raven haired youth from his memories. He sighed. "Nico." It was a contented sound, already the pain was starting to fade, already Nico was appearing in his arms. He pulled the sheet closer, nuzzling what he imagined to be the crook of the boy's neck.

_"Stop that, seaweed brain, I have to study, something you should be doing yourself."_

Percy smiled. "Sorry, Neeks, you're just too cute." He whispered.

_Nico blushed and turned away. "Whatever happened to the days where you nb_

"Oh, I don't know, Nicky, guess you just worked your magic on me." Percy said nipping lightly at the imagined boys neck.

_"Dammit, taught you too well for my own good hmm?"_

"Perhaps you did... perhaps you did..."

The pain was gone. He couldn't feel anything anymore, just the weight of his love in his arms, the sound of his voice in his ear. Memories surged through his mind; the real world pulled away, he fell back into his mind.

He remembered.

- **Betrothed-**  


_The first time they kissed, Percy was scared beyond all reason. He didn't understand what was happening, how these feelings had culminated into something so intimate. He was scared as he watched the raven haired boy slowly lean in, in, in, slowly, so slowly, giving Percy a chance to pull away._

_But he didn't._

_He didn't know why, he didn't know how, but he wanted this, he wanted to feel the Prince of Tartarus's lips on his, that prince's warmth; he wanted to taste him. He wanted him so bad it was scary. It scared him that his feelings for the brown eyed youth were so strong, powerful enough to override his reason. Percy was betrothed, he was straight, he didn't like men, he didn't do this type of thing. His mind supplied the reasons to stop but he ignored them, he didn't want to be reasonable right now, he wanted to follow his heart, he wanted to_ feel. _And right now his heart was telling him to kiss Nico. To kiss this boy until he was dizzy._

_So he did._

_It started tentative at first, a chaste meeting of unsure virgin lips, a light peck testing the waters, testing the other's reaction. It was an immature kiss, the two boy's eyes squeezed shut, lips puckered in the most ridiculous fashion, they looked puerile and innocent, like the school boys they were._

_They broke apart after a moment, eyes locked on each other, a look of surprise plastered on both of their faces, like they couldn't believe what they'd just done. Well in Percy's case that was true, he honestly couldn't believe what he'd done. He looked away and brought a finger to his lips, the feeling hot on his mind like a brand, his face turning a deep red._

_Nico rubbed the back of his head and looked away. "Crap, Percy-, I- I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so bold-"_

_Percy cut him off, pushing himself back against the raven haired boy, his lips connecting with a bruising force, one that initiated an immediate response from the ghost prince. Nico pushed back, running his hands through Percy's short hair, tugging at the tuffs, hanging on with an almost painfully tight hold. He heard Percy moan deep in his throat and felt the sea prince's tongue brushing against his lips. He wanted in._

_Nico straddled the taller boy's hips and opened his mouth, bringing his own inexperienced tongue into the fray, the feeling of the two members meeting sending a strange tingling through his body, the spark that started the fire of need in his belly._

_The two broke for air, only drawing far enough apart to stare into each others eyes, their lips still mere centimeters from each other. Percy brushed a few strands of hair gently out of Nico's face, his touch like a downy feather on the First Prince's hot cheeks, his eyes holding so much warmth, looping it behind his ear, so timid, so caring, Nico had never felt like this before. Never felt what it was like to be loved by another you_ wanted _to love. To feel such a strong sweeping emotion, one that was mirrored in the sea green eyes in front of him, one that was as scared as his own but just as determined and just as willing. He'd never felt a thing like that, a gaze like that, one that stripped him raw, saw all that was wrong with him yet still liked him anyway._

_Never._

_And it was beautiful._

_Percy trailed his hand down the side of Nico's face, cupping the smaller boy's cheek in his tanned hand, staring at him intently with that intense stare of his. Nico shivered and leaned into the touch, lacing his own fingers with Percy's hold, hypnotized by his gaze, unable to turn away, not wanting to turn away. He wanted this moment to last forever._

_"You can not fathom how long I'd waited for this moment," Nico whispered. "I always imagined you saying no though."_

_Percy smirked. "I still haven't said yes, I just let you kiss me."_

_"And you I."_

_"Touche."_

_They fell silent after that, foreheads touching, the moment strangely intimate and fiery though they did nothing to further excite themselves. They were just drunk on the euphoria of what they had just accomplished together in their lives, the silent admission of their mutual feelings._

_"I'm assuming that this is a yes then?" It was a question, not a statement, and Nico held onto Percy tighter, his pale cheeks tinging a deeper red, breaking eye contact._

_Percy looked at the Prince of Tartarus in awe, he'd never seen him act this way, usually he was so sure, so confident in what he did, it fueled some base need to protect the boy in his arms, a need he didn't really understand. It was in this moment he remembered just how small the raven haired youth was, that he was near a head taller than him, it was easy to forget, Nico just exuded such a large, demanding presence. "Yes to what?" Percy asked._

_"To...," He gestured between the two of them. "Us."_

_Percy bit his lip, "_ to us". _That was the big question. Could there even be an "_ us"  _to them? When he was meant to marry Annabeth in a few short years? He felt Nico tense in his lap, and looked up to see the strong princes eyes glistening slightly behind a shroud of black hair._

_That made up his mind, the decision was simple when he saw just how vulnerable Nico was, how much he'd opened up to him in this moment, and he realized he didn't want this feeling to go away, he wanted Nico, the full an unabridged, the true Nico, he really did, more than anything he'd ever wanted in his life, he was willing to deal with whatever consequences might come with that._

_"Hey," Percy whispered, lifting Nico's face to look at him. "Yes." He nodded for added affect._

_Nico looked at him for an instant, his eyes uncomprehending and confused, then realization dawned on his face, a relieved smile etching itself across his lips._

_"Yes." Nico agreed and he leaned in for another kiss._

_Percy's body responded instantly, and soon they kissing even more passionately than before. It was fiery and desperate and only further solidified his resolve. He would find a way to be with Nico, he would find a way to break off the engagement with Annabeth, somehow he would. He could. He must._

_Because this love was worth it._

- **Betrothed-**  


The carriage bumped along the road, jostling Nico's arms every few seconds, causing him to wince in pain as the cuffs bit into his already raw wrists. It had been a week since he'd been forced back into the politics of Tartarus, and true to his word Kronos hadn't killed him, he had actually attempted to be hospitable giving the Lost Prince delicate foods and plush covers as soft as silk. Those were the moments Nico could tolerate, the moments when he actually had some freedom, where he could pretend that he truly was an equal, his own man, here of his own volition.

Of course that was a lie. He didn't want to be here and the kindness's were two faced gourmet food they offered him hid poisons and rot; the plush luxuries needles and nails. It was all a facade, a terribly intricate and clever rouse to fool the populace into submission. He was forced into public debates, debates where he'd respond with scripted answers, slowly gaining the people's support for Kronos. Making them think that he was the true king. The real king. The king they should have. It was the only way he could survive.

And he had to survive.

He had to have his revenge. He had to. He could never forget the horror's that so called king inflicted on his family. His father, his mother, his innocent sister. To forget was to die.

His hate was what kept him going. It's what fueled him to follow the orders of that psychotic genius, Kronos. It's what he used to justify his public denouncement of his claim to the throne; what kept him from screaming LIAR! in the middle of all the debates he'd been forced to endure. It's what kept him locked into Kronos's plan.

And he hated it.

He hated himself, he hated what he'd become, he hated what he'd allow himself to do just for the chance to slit that mans throat, to watch the life leave his eyes forever. The sick satisfaction that, that thought gave him scared the young prince beyond belief. The fact that adrenaline would course through his veins, that his blood would boil and his heart would pound in his chest as if high off battle. Those changes scared him.

But he didn't stop them.

They were his life support now. They kept him strong, they gave him a goal, they toughened his soul into an impenetrable wall of diamond. Just this single week in hell had been all he needed to perpetuate his resolve. The carriage jumped over another bump, and the cuffs cut into his wrists again, but he didn't scream, he didn't call out. He sat there, regal and dignified, chained and immobile, even if no one could see in the vehicle, the curtains drawn over his window. They couldn't let the poor people of Tartarus see that the last living heir of their royal family was nothing more than a prisoner, a puppet, now could they?

Nico blew his raven black bangs out of his eyes, unable to raise a hand high enough to move the hair out of the way, and looked over his appearance. He wore a modified version of the traditional garb of his people, a black toga, but where skin would usually show in the arms and shoulder was a shear almost see through shirt, long enough to cover up the raw skin of his wrists. If anyone asked about the sudden change he'd just say he'd forgotten how cold Tartarus was. A dark thick gray ornamental belt telling the story of his families rise to power held the garb together around his waist, silver bangles hanging from that, chromium rings interlocking throughout the black cloth making it seem to shimmer and form around his body like a wave, inconstant; forever changing. His curly raven hair was styled to perfection, a silver crown of thorns wrapped around his temple, and black sandals donned his feet.

The carriage stopped with a sudden jerk, the metal cuffs rubbing against his wrists for the final time before the carriage doors swung open. Two burly men stood besides the doorway, guarding it, a third in the middle, a blonde haired, blue eyed scarred menace to society. Luke Castellan, Kronos' oldest and most like himself, son. The one son who took as much care in making Nico feel utterly miserable as Kronos did in pretending to be hospitable. Nico wasn't particularly fond of the second son, Apollo, but at least that boy didn't outwardly display his hate.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, Luke with his hands firmly gripping the ring of keys in his hands, so hard, in fact, the knuckles turned white, his mouth set in a grim line of barely contained disdain, his flowy crimson red toga hanging from his shoulder, a clasp of gold holding the cloth together. Nico glared back with his harshest glare, not even bothering to pretend to like him, pouring all his anger and hate into that single fiery gaze. Luke broke contact first and stepped into the small cramped space, one that had been designed for two but could only comfortably hold one, before grabbing at the shackles roughly and jamming a key into the lock.

The chains fell to the floor and Luke half shoved, half threw Nico, who only barely managed to stay on his feet, out of the carriage and into the chilly Tartarus winter air. Nico turned and shot Luke a deadly look as he regained his balance, pulling up the shoulder of his toga as he did so. "I can't wait to slit your godforsaken throat." He growled at the taller blonde.

Luke scowled, his scar transforming his face into a hideous grimace, before walking up to the Lost Prince. "You better watch your goddamn mouth." He whispered, grabbing onto Nico's wrist with bruising force, knowing how much pain the other boy was feeling and relishing in that knowledge. "Just be glad, I'm not king yet." He pushed up against the alley wall, slamming his hands at his sides. "You'd already be dead then."

Nico set his jaw, refusing to cry out, taking in quick shallow breaths as pain radiated through his wrists and up his body in flaming tendrils. They were in an alley and while Nico knew Luke wouldn't openly abuse him now with the chance of being caught, it didn't mean he wouldn't later, and it didn't mean he wouldn't leave subtle marks all over his body, in the places one couldn't see, example, his wrists.

Nico dropped his gaze, and Luke dropped his hold on the smaller boy, smirking in the afterglow of victory in making the other submit to his will. He was truly pathetic, Luke thought to himself, all big talk and no bite. He didn't see how he could've possibly hidden away for so long.

"Come, your _highness_ ," He said with a mock bow, "You have you're subjects to attend to."

Nico glared, but said nothing, he knew he was in for a beating when they got back to the castle, who knows, maybe it would be even sooner in the carriage ride back. Nico shivered and began to move forward, he had no desire to make things worse for himself.

He continued forward, towards the pale morning light at the end of the narrow alleyway, the shouts of the people growing louder by the second. The young prince felt his spirit fill with dread and nausea. Again. Again he was going to betray the trust of his people, lead them down a false sense of security, that their way was now the enlightened path. The path to a new blessed world. A world that didn't exist.

Nico tugged at the hm of his toga, and forced his breathing to normalize, refusing to go further in this undignified manner. He needed to remain strong, he had to appear the part. He was the last di Angelo, he would not tarnish their name by appearing weak.

The Lost Prince stepped out of the alleyway and the crowd went wild, he offered them a small smile as he approached the podium, walking up the steps and taking his seat at the end of the row beside Apollo of the new royal family, the Castellans.

He sat down and placed his delicate hands in his lap, back straight yet relaxed, his face a mask of emotion, exuding an air of calm upon the crowd. Nico turned his attention to the current speaker Kronos, and felt anger start to coil in his stomach, how dare he spout such lies to his people. He wanted nothing more than to jump across the stage and stab the man into oblivion, but he held that emotion back, never letting it touch his face, never letting it reach his eyes, eyes that would betray everything he truly felt. Instead he looked down, down at the ring on his finger, the small simple yet elegant silver token imbued with tiny bits of emerald that upon its center held the royal crest of the Jackson family: the trident.

 _Percy._ He thought, fiddling with the ring. Oh, how he missed his smile, the lopsided grins, and easy going laughs. He had made him feel safe, secure, protected, cherished, wanted, and loved, but now... now that couldn't be. Now all he had was a ring and a box full of memories, memories of his gentle touches, of his heated kisses, of the feelings he could entice out of him with a single look. Nico didn't even know if Percy truly understood the power he had held over him, he would've-and still would-do anything for that boy. No matter the price, he would answer his call and he knew Percy would do the same for him.

But now that was over. It was better this way. In the end he knew it had to be like this. In the end he knew he should be thanking Kronos for giving them an excuse to break up without any hard feelings towards each other. He'd given him something to blame instead of themselves. Now Percy was free to forget about him, to marry Annabeth like he was meant to, and move on with his merry life.

Nico told himself this. Told himself that Percy would be okay without him. His mind told him it was logical and true and just, but in his heart of hearts he knew it was false.

He knew Percy would be miserable without him.

He knew Percy would always and forever be his.

He knew this.

But still he hoped he was wrong.

- **Betrothed-**  


_It was the last day of school for the year, and the two boys sat together, hand in hand under the Golden tree. It was their favorite spot in the school, their go to place after classes to meet up and make out. Hardly anyone else came up here so often times they had it to themselves, their own little paradise to be alone and away from the watchful eyes of others._

_Their relationship wasn't much of a secret anymore, well it was kind of impossible for it to be to begin with, considering Nico's status as a prince in the school. Everything he did was breaking news, and what was better than his love life. A love life that didn't involve some princess like everyone expected, but some small low class architect boy; the student body clung to it like rabid animals._

_Nico sighed and looked at the boy next to him. Percy had his eyes closed, face set in a look of contented peace. Nico marveled at just how perfect he was, how the light seemed to make his lover almost glow, how the wind ruffled his hair just the right way and carried the slight oceany scent that clung to him into Nico's nose. He was perfect, but by no means did that make him flawless, rather his flaws just made him all the more attractive, human, lovable. Nico relished in Percy's idiosyncrasies like the obsession the other boy had with blue, or how he never let his hair grow out past halfway down his ears, or the nape of his neck, or just above his eyes._

_He loved the fact that the other boy loved to swim (and he loved watching him do so, never one to pass up a chance to see the boy shirtless), and loved to read,. He loved that he was always their to help him with his homework when he needed it. He loved the fact that he was the only one who ever saw Percy wear his glasses, they made him look so scholarly and hot. He even loved the fact that he was such a closeted genius, even if it annoyed him to no end. He knew that Percy was constantly underplaying his abilities in class, coming out lower than he truly was, he didn't approve truly, but he understood. He was shy, even if now he didn't appear to be._

_That was something else he found incredible. He was impressed with how much Percy had come out of his shell. No longer was he the introverted person he had been on that fateful day nine months ago, now he was something else, someone who others could come to for guidance and advice. Nico was glad others could finally see that side of his lover, the caring heart that was truly him, not the stoic mask he used to show._

_Percy squeezed his hand and Nico looked back at the boy to find his eyes locked on his own._

_Nico felt the air leave him. Percy's eyes were such a gorgeous sea green, so full of emotion and love; truly breathtaking._

_"What're you thinking about dead head?" Percy asked with a smile smile on his lips._

_Nico blushed and blinked, unable to form a coherent reply for a moment. "Nothing. Just... you... us, seaweed brain."_

_Percy snorted, and closed his eyes again, a contented sigh leaving his lips. "What about us?"_

_Nico bit his lip and pressed himself against Percy's side, taking comfort in his presence before speaking. "Just... what happens next? The summer's a long time to be apart."_

_Percy popped open an eye and smirked down at curly haired boy. "That's it?"_

_Nico's jaw dropped and he sputtered. "That's it?_ That's it _?!" He smacked the other boy lightly on the arm, he'd been expecting a bit more of a reaction than that. "What do you mean 'that's it'?!"_

_Percy laughed and pulled the flustered boy onto his lap, pressing his lips chastely against Nico's. "What's to worry about? We'll see each other again soon enough, besides we can always send letters in between."_

_Nico pulled back slightly, his brow scrunched in confusion. "How, you never gave me your address."_

_Percy rolled his eyes and kissed away his lovers frown. "I'm going to give it to you obviously." He whispered against his lips, Nico shivered, and held more tightly to the black haired boy, he very much wanted Percy to give him something else._

_Nico moaned and leaned forward trying to deepen the kiss, but Percy pulled back grinning at the obvious aggravation he was causing the raven haired prince._

_"Tease."_

_"Don't start something you can't finish, our rides will be here soon."_

_Nico groaned and dropped his head onto Percy's shoulder, Percy rubbed absent minded circles against his back._

_"So what's your address?" Nico mumbled, not looking up, enjoying the pseudo massage Percy was giving him._

_"Yeah... Nico," Percy paused in his ministrations and Nico looked up. "So, you know how I said I lived in Olympus?"_

_"Yeah well, uh...," He rubbed the back of his head. "That... that might not have been... uhm, oh god..."_

_Nico pulled back completely now to look at him. "Might not have what?" He growled._

_"It might not have been exactly... true...," Percy winced, and Nico felt like he'd been slapped._

_"So you lied to me?" Nico's voice was dangerously calm._

_"It wasn't my idea! My dad made me promise to not to tell anyone who I really was!"_

_"So you decided that 'anyone' included your_ boyfriend  _too?"_

_"Nico! I'm trying to tell you now-!"_

_"And who is that? Vladamir Worstenchire?!" Nico pushed himself off Percy's lap._

_"Oh for godsake Nico, who the_ fuck _is that?!"_

_"I don't know! You for all I know! What else did you lie about? Don't really like the color blue?!"_

_Percy raised his arms in an exasperated manner. "Of course I like blue! It's not like I changed everything about myself! It was just my name and not even all of that!"_

_"We've been together six and a half months Percy._ Six and a half!  _And you couldn't even tell me your real name? Is it even really Percy?!"_

 _Percy groaned and stood up running a hand through his short black hair. "Yes, Nico, it is." It was obvious he was irritated, he was trying to tell Nico the truth_ now _, why was he getting so angry? It's not like he lied about who he was, he was still the same person he'd fallen in love with. Nico fell silent and remained sitting, glaring up at him from his spot in the grass, watching._

_Percy stopped pacing and looked down at the prince. "Will you let me talk now?"_

_Nico nodded and crossed his arms. "I'm waiting."_

_"Okay," Percy nodded. "Okay." He took a breath. "So, I'm not from Olympus, I'm-"_

_"Percy!" Percy turned and winced. It was his mom, he'd recognize her voice anywhere; she had gotten here sooner than he had expected._

_"Shit." He mumbled. He turned to Nico, "Here," He slipped a ring off his finger and placed it in Nico's delicate pale hand. "Look for that symbol in your archive's when you get back to Tartarus, it's my families crest." He shot the curly haird prince a wry grin. "shouldn't be hard for you to find, myth nerd." Percy closed Nico's hand around the token and gave it a squeeze._

_"Percy! Hurry down! Your father expects us to be back home in time for the tournament!"_

_"All right mother!" Percy called over his shoulder before turning and placing a quick kiss to Nico's cheek. "I've got to go, the dragon beckons." He said playfully before looking down at the other boy and giving him a hug. "Remember to find that crest." He whispered. "I'm going to miss you." Nico nodded and melted into the touch, wishing it could last longer, last forever, that they didn't have to break apart for the summer._

_Nico sighed, but they had to, and let go. "I'll miss you too," He mumbled burying his head in the tall tan boys chest, trying to convey that he wasn't really angry at him, maybe slightly annoyed, but nothing to change how he felt about the other boy._

_"Percy! I know you're up there, I just heard you call! I refuse to climb that blasted hill!"_

_Nico really moved away this time and offered his lover one of his rare half smiles, pushing him away lightly. "Go. We'll talk about this when summer ends." He said holding up the ring Percy had given him._

_Percy nodded and placed one last chaste kiss against his lips before running down the hill. "Coming ma'!"_

_Nico leaned against the tree, the shade casting a slight golden glow on his pale form. and watched him go, his lover, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched Percy trip halfway down the hill. Nico looked off at the horizon, absentmindedly thumbing the ring already beginning to miss the presence of the other boy._

_Just two months he reminded himself._

_Two months and then Percy would once again be holding him in his arms._

_Two months._

_Two months that never truly came._

_For that was when Nico's family was murdered. The curse had began._

- **Betrothed-**  


Tyson sat in front of his vanity mirror, painstakingly trying to perfect his appearance. His brow was scrunched in concentration, and his eyes watered as he plucked his eyebrows free of strays, slowly giving them a uniform appearance. Tweezers pluck, wince, brush, tweezers pluck, wince, brush. Repeat. His mouth was set in a grimace and he bit his upper lip, smearing the light coating of gloss he had put on them to bring out their naturally coloring.

His skin was smooth and moisturized and his red hair was rumpled into a look of styled bad boy. It was funny really, considering he was anything but. But of course that didn't matter right now. Right now he had to be perfect, by any. Means. Necessary. He plucked the last eyebrow with a contented sigh, before putting the tweezers down. The pains he went through for beauty. His fatal flaw, his vanity. He was nothing without his looks, they were the only thing people really cared about anyway. You could be as much of an ass as you wanted when you were beautiful.

Beautiful people could get away with anything.

Tyson shook his head. That wasn't why he was preening himself even more than usual today, oh no, he wasn't doing this for himself. Not really. He didn't order the full body waxing just because he couldn't stand the sight of his body hair, to hell if he'd succumb to that without a greater motive. It hurt much too much to just do willy nilly. He'd take a razor any day.

No he went through all this trouble, buffing and shining his nails, adding drops of water to his eyes to make them shine just a little more, the faint layer of make-up that permeated his face, bringing out its curve and strong jaw, both feminine and masculine at the same time.

He had prominent cheekbones he realized almost as an afterthought, he assumed it was one of the traits that drew others to him, but he didn't care about "others" right now, he cared about what one person in particular thought of him, one blonde haired, amber eyed second son of Kronos to be exact. Apollo.

He was surprised, he hadn't expected to actually find  _anything_  he liked here in dreary, damp and cold Tartarus, let alone someone to  _pine_ after. It was terribly ironic really, he noted to himself. The whole reason he was here in the first place was because his younger brother had fallen in love with the Lost Prince, Nico di Angelo, and kept him hidden from the eyes of everyone in his family... and the world. It was only after Tyson contacted Kronos, bringing his armies to the Palace doorstep, that he realized what a mistake he'd made.

He'd let his jealousy get the better of his judgement, he knew that now, and he betrayed his family by doing so, breaking his brothers heart in the process. Tyson frowned in the mirror, he felt ugly now, those thoughts always did and no matter how many corrective measures he took he always remained ugly. He knew that to be the case, he knew he was a horrible awful person, it's why he didn't resist when Kronos had told him to get in the carriage, he knew he'd have no place back home to go to when they discovered what he had done. This way he could pretend to have just been killed in the melee, running away like the coward he was.

Tyson stood and slammed the vanity closed, he couldn't stand to look at his reflection anymore. All the silks and bright colors, the greens to bring out his red hair the burgundy to bring out his eyes, the sensual walk he had perfected, the flirtatious speaking, none of it meant anything. He was lower than low, understudy of shit, and had enough conceit to run an army of blondes for a millennium.

The red haired prince made a face and grabbed his notebook and lyre from his desk before storming out the... his...? Room.

Walking down the halls... no rather raging the floor with his footsteps, he made his way through the castle. It was nothing like the one he'd grown up in which had been warm and inviting, this one held darkness and death, a curse of its own. The servants paid him no mind, they knew he wouldn't leave, he had nowhere else to go, he was their prisoner in all but name.

He was allowed free reign of the palace but nothing more. He couldn't leave for any reason, whether he wished to go to the market or see a show or any other manner of mundane things. No, everything he needed was brought to him, and he was more pampered than he had ever been before. But it was an empty kind of luxury, one that had been bought through treachery and now only guilt and revulsion remained.

He hadn't seen much of Tartarus, only brief glimpses he'd stolen on his carriage ride here, though even that he couldn't really enjoy it with the death glare Nico had perpetuated in giving him the whole ride over. Tyson had been able to ignore it at first, push it to the back of his mind, but slowly he couldn't; it had been an awfully long carriage ride and the malice he had felt from that single gaze slowly began to wear him down. So much so, in fact, that he almost jumped across the seat and strangled Kronos to end it all right then and there, to reunite Nico with his younger brother, with Percy, so at least someone could have a happy ending.

But he didn't.

He was too much of a coward.

Tyson stopped in a small discreet pavilion nestled between two towers and sat down on the tiny stone bench underneath a large oak. It was his favorite place in the castle, the only spot that seemed to have some green, some semblance of life, the only place that felt truly alive. No one ever seemed to travel to this part of the castle anymore. You could see it in the obvious disrepair it was falling into. A ruin of its old form. Dead and alive. Ironic really.

Tyson took a breath and set down his lyre, taking out his notebook, really just a leather bound wad of papers, before opening it to a random blank page. Setting the half full ink well beside him he dipped his quill pen into its depths and waited, eyes closed, breath even, waiting for inspiration to hit. He didn't have to wait long. Opening his eyes he set the pen on the page and wrote.

He wrote furiously, transferring his emotions into words that he'd transfer to voice and lyre, the only therapy he had while he was here. He finished and set the quill to the side before propping the book up against the tree.

Strumming a few chords on the lyre he quickly tuned the instrument and then...

He sang.

- **Betrothed-**  


_Nico thumbed the ring Percy gave him absentmindedly between his fingers, it had become a bit of an awkward habit in the past few weeks that he'd been away from Percy, one that his parents had noticed but never gotten around to asking about, which was all fine in Nico's book, he didn't really want to talk to them about it. Not yet at least. It's not that he feared rejection or shame in telling them, it was just a conversation he didn't want to have. All his life he'd been expected to get married someday, continue the di Angelo family legacy through his offspring._

_Well that was starting look less and less likely now._

_Sighing he leaned back in the slightly smaller throne besides his father's, legs spread in a very undignified manner, bored. Out. Of. His. Mind. His free hand propped his head up, cupping his cheek in his delicate fingers, his raven curls moving to cover the right side of his face; his mouth pursed in a slightly impatient and irritated line._

_What he would give for some entertainment in this blasted castle! He had never known a boredom like the one he was experiencing now! Had Percy really made his life that much more interesting that in just these few short weeks without him left him feeling like he'd just endured a life time of torture?_

_Nico tossed the ring in the air and caught it, slamming his hand down on the other armrest and drumming his fingers against it, filling the empty hall with the sound of flesh on metal leaning ever farther into his seat. He closed his eyes and slipped the ring on his thumb, the only finger it would fit comfortably on, Percy's hands were so much bigger than his own._

_"Father would have your head if he saw you like that little brother." A teasing voice came from above him._

_Nico smirked lightly before replying. "Let him then Bianca, at least then there'd be some excitement in this damnable castle."_

_"Oh, feeling antsy are we?" Bianca stepped from behind the throne and smacked her lightly brother on the head. "Language Nico," she sing songed._

_Nico yelped and opened his eyes glaring at his older sister. "Trust me Bia, I've done much worse than spew a few curses in my time gone."_

_Bianca smirked, mirroring the dark mischief that could be seen in his own. "Would it have anything to do with whoever gave you that ring you've been fiddling with for the past month," Bianca laughed at her brothers shocked expression. "Yes we've all noticed,_ everyone, _I might add, even the laundry maids. And don't even try to say you haven't been doing it constantly, because you have."_

_"I have not." Nico said incredulously while twisting the ring around his finger._

_Bianca raised an eyebrow. "Really Nico? Really? You're doing it now."_

_Nico opened and closed his mouth, stopping his twirling, before settling on his trademarked glare._

_Bianca plopped down on her father's throne before brushing back her long black hair from her face. "So, tell me, who is she?"_

_Nico scoffed and just smirked at her. "Like I'd tell you."_

_"Fine, who is_ he _?"_

_Nico sputtered face heating up._

_"Oh? So it_ is  _a boy, can't say I'm surprised, always saw that one coming, I take it you haven't told mom and dad yet?"_

_"What makes you think it's a boy huh?" Nico stuttered, crossing his arms, trying to retain whatever dignity he still had._

_Bianca smiled. "Well you reacted dummy." She said flicking Nico's head affectionately "Oh and you blushed like a virgin on her wedding night. You're really easy to read little brother, so who is it?"_

_Nico sighed and looked away before muttering. "Percy." He squeezed the ring tightly in his hand, his face turning even more red._

_Bianca tapped her chin in wonder. "Percy hmmm?... Sounds hot. I approve. You got a potrait?"_

_Nico nodded. "Percy had our friend Will paint us on our six month anniversary. It's in my room, in my desk."_

_Bianca's eyes widened. "Six months? And I'm just now hearing about this?"_

_"Six and a half to be exact," Nico mumbled._

_"You're a horrible brother! How couldn't you have told me before now?!" Bianca feigned hurt._

_"Because Mom and Dad read the letters too and I really don't want to explain anything to them yet."_

_"I see."_

_The two sat in silence for a while, neither sure of what to say, the hall falling back into silence._

_"Well can I see the portrait?"_

_Nico nodded. "Later."_

_"Okay," The princess got up and stretched her arms. "Well come on I'm sure dinner is ready by now."_

_Nico rolled his eyes. "Oh joy." He said sarcastically._

_"Now, now Nico no need to be so excited, it's only food." She said imitating her brothers sarcasm._

_Nico made a face but got off the throne and began walking down the steps towards the ground. "Well come on then." He mimicked._

_Bianca shook her head and began to walk down, but that was when they heard it. The first crash. The two young royals froze. It was suddenly too quiet._

_That's when they heard the first screams._

- **Betrothed-**  


Nico walked away from the podium barely able to stand. He felt sick to his stomach, all the lies he spewed, the false smiles, the fake praise, all of it slowly turning his insides... and his country. In his mind he watched as another region fell into the red, into the palms of Kronos; he wished someone would call out his treachery, would see through his facade and read between the lines, screaming bloody murder, causing a stir, stopping the lies from falling from his mouth.

Though he feared that now it may be too late.

Apollo shot the young prince an apologetic look as he made his way back to his seat on unsteady legs, hoping that the rest of the audience couldn't see just how shaken he really was.

Kronos nodded in his direction and walked back to the podium to deliver the closer, though Nico hardly paid attention, he felt his stomach churning and clenching, his skin clamming over. Apollo looked at him worriedly.

"Are you feeling okay? You look pale," He whispered discreetly to the boy sitting next to him.

Nico winced and shook his head. "I think I'm going to be sick." He groaned clutching his stomach as it spasmed again in rebellion. "I need to get out of here before I make a scene."

Apollo took in the raven haired boys slightly green expression and nodded. "Come with me."

The blonde quickly got up and slipped behind the curtain, Nico right behind him.

"Oh god," He moaned. "Fuck." Nico quickly ran into the alley and retched. It was awful, his stomach clenched and pushed upwards, his gag reflex making the entire experience worse. He felt his breakfast resurface and splatter to the ground, a myriad of hellish colors he didn't even want to see. He was so glad the toga clung to him so much, he'd managed to keep it clean. He didn't need to be seen walking back on the podium with chunks attached to himself.

Nico braced himself against the wall and heaved again, this time less violently than before, but just as painfully, most of it coming off as dry retching. He rested his head against the wall and stood there, gasping letting the cold stone cool his over heated flesh. Finally, he took a breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before straightening himself shakily.

Apollo took one look at him and shook his head. "Oh no, you're going back to the castle now."

Nico glared and took a wobbly step. "Like hell I am."

Apollo sighed and went to let the young prince lean on him. "You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that right?"

Nico smirked as he leaned against the... what should he call him? Prince? He supposed so. "It's my most endearing quality."

"I suppose so, if you were too complacent I doubt Luke would have any fun."

Nico grimaced at the mention of the boys older brother. "I just refuse to be anyone's bitch, you can blame my wounded pride for that one."

Apollo chuckled. "You seemed pretty content with being the Third Prince of Atlantis'."

Nico blushed. "Shut up, that's different."

"I guess."

Apollo took a left and continued past the stage where his father's booming voice could be heard.

"Where are you taking me?" Nico growled.

"I told you, back to the castle."

Nico stopped, dragging his feet behind him forcing Apollo to halt. "No. Let go"

Apollo let go and brushed a blonde curl from his face. "Do you really want them to see you like this?" Apollo asked evenly. "Will your  _pride_  allow it?"

Nico winced. "My pride won't let me just leave either."

"But will it allow you to look weak? Which is worse?"

Nico bit his lip but said nothing.

"Look you can't even stand by yourself. Wouldn't it be easier to leave and come up with a plausible lie then make an undeniable truth?"

Nico sighed, Apollo was too smart for his own good. "Fine. Take me back." he grumbled.

Apollo smiled. "There's a good boy."

- **Betrothed-**  


_"Run," Bianca whispered, slowly backing her way back up the stairs. "I left the hidden door open." The throne room doors were thrown open. "Run, Nico!"_

_Nico was yanked behind his sister and shoved towards the door. "What about you Bia?!"_

_Bianca shook her head. "Don't worry about me, you just get away." You're more important she finished to herself. Her parents loved her yes, but they would never forgive her if she let something happen to Nico, he was the heir, she was the back up plan. It didn't matter that she was older, Nico was male, and in her family the men got everything._

_"Run," She repeated more forcefully, pulling a long sword from beside the throne. "Go now!" She hissed._

_"But Bia-!"_

_"Stop arguing and go!" She quickly turned and gave her brother a hug. "I love you." Then she shut the door, cutting Nico off from whatever was happening on the outside._

_"Bia!" Nico slammed his weight against the door but it was locked shut, she must have put something in front of it to keep him from going back out. "Dammit!" He punched the wall. "Dammit." Nico slipped down the wall, he was shaking, he was afraid, he didn't know what was happening or why it was happening and he didn't even know if he'd get out of it alive and he was just so scared, so, so, so, scared._

_"Percy...," He whimpered, silent tears falling from his face, tears he didn't even realize had been falling until he felt his breath hitch and escalate; the wind felt cold on his face._

_Oh god! He needed him here right now, he needed his warmth, his level headed thinking, Nico was freaking out right now and e knew that at a time like this it was the opposite thing to do. The young prince took a breath. What would Percy do? Nico smiled and looked down at the ring on his finger, feeling new strength surge through him at the thought. That was easy, he'd kick their asses is what._

_The young prince wiped his eyes and stood up, determined, and ran down the corridor. First thing he had to do was get out of these blasted tunnels, he really should've paid more attention to their layout when he was initially taught them, these stupid things were more up Bianca's alley than his own._

_Nico swiped a torch from the wall and took a left, walking up a set of spiral steps before finally finding himself in front of another door. He paused, placing the torch in its holder and brushing his hair out of his hair. He didn't know what part of the castle he was in and he didn't know how far spread whatever this... invasion? Coup? Had gone. He hated not knowing, but at the same time he was kind of glad that the stone walls were thick enough to block any sounds that he might have heard. He didn't think he could've withstood all the suffering that was doubtless happening outside at this very moment._

_The young prince placed an ear against the door and slowed his breathing to something less panicked, letting the adrenaline coursing through his system to fade away. He bit his lip and waited; he knew his sister would probably want him to just stay in the tunnels until things quieted down, until someone found him and led him out, but he couldn't do that, there was no telling who would find him and there was no telling how long "wait it out" would take. So, hearing nothing, he pushed open the door and walked into the room._

_Big mistake._

_Outside where two armed guards, guards that didn't belong to his family, guards that donned a strange crest on their breast plate that he had never seen before. Nico gasped and tried to step back into the tunnels, but it was too late, they'd already seen him, how couldn't they? It's not like it's easy to open a stone door silently._

_"Is that... ?" The first asked, his voice heavy with an accent Nico had never heard before._

_"Yeah, I think so, looks like the kid in the portrait." The second replied, slowly creeping forward. "Do we kill him?"_

_Nico backed away from the door and slowly started moving to the window, maybe then he could figure a way out..._

_"No, Kronos wants him alive, don't know why."_

_"Of course not you numbskull, we're only good enough to die for him, not dine with him."_

_That was the first time he'd heard that name, Kronos, and it wouldn't be the last, but even before he knew what the man could do that name instilled a fear in him he didn't comprehend, sending shivers of ice through his blood._

_"Oh, boy, I wouldn't do that if I were you, tis a long way down." The second soldier said to him, noticing that he was slowly creeping towards the window._

_Nico ignored him and kept moving towards the window, no longer trying to hide his advances, he wasn't going to go anywhere with those scumballs. From what he could gather, he was on the second or maybe even third floor of one of the castle towers, it would be risky, but he could still survive the drop... assuming he could grab onto one of the ledges without popping his arm out of its socket and climb down from there._

_Each of the towers had inconspicuous footholds for just these moments. Granted there were no restraints, and they hadn't been kept in the best condition so they could easily break under the sudden weight, but it was the only option he had. So he kept retreating. By this time his back was against the window, and he stealthily unlocked it._

_"Okay little princeling, get away from there, we aren't going to hurt you, Kronos wants you alive remember."_

_Nico shivered, there was that name again. He shook his head. "Like hell, bitch." Then, he jumped._

_The tower zoomed by him and Nico flailed, desperately trying to find purchase on one of the ledges quickly approaching. Time was moving to fast for him, the ground coming up to soon, he feared death in that moment, he thought he'd made a graven error, but then... he caught a edge._

_Nico's arm screamed in agony, and white hot pain seared through his shoulder as it was wrenched out of its socket. The young prince let out a cry of pain as his body slammed into the wall, feeling the bone disconnect bone, tendons ripping, ribs cracking, head bleeding, skin inflaming at the sudden impact, and quickly brought the other arm up beside it, trying, with all his might, to pull himself up with one arm. He was almost there, almost able to move to the first of the foot holds when..._

_The ledge broke._

_Nico gasped, and flew back, now too far away to grab onto anything, he grabbed at air, always coming away empty and screamed. He had been so close, so close to breaking free but... it wasn't to be was it? He was going to die._

_It was a strange feeling falling like this, it seemed that now everything was slowing down, like now that the world knew that Nico had excepted his fate that it wanted to drag it out, toy with him as long as possible._

_Everything seemed crystal clear in that moment, he could see the cracks in the tower wall, he could see the tiny droplets of water dripping off miniscule blades of grass, up, down, left right, he was seeing everything and nothing at once. All was revealed to him in that moment, and... for some reason he didn't think it was weird. It felt natural, like second nature. There was an unspoken question in that moment a clarity, a question he had about four seconds to answer._

_Do you want to live?_

_"I don't want to die," He whispered._

_Nico looked down to see a figure... a figure that seemed to be... nodding?_

_Images flashed through his mind, scenes of gruesome clarity, of sickening realism and revulsion. Images to disturbing to be fake. He saw a large man with hair so blonde it almost looked white standing over his family, slowly killing them, one by one, getting more gruesome with each death._

_Limbs were removed, hearts ripped out, screams pierced the air, and skin flew in ribbons around them. He didn't know how that man was doing this, how he mutilated his family with just a touch. A touch was all it took, just a simple touch, and then his father disintegrated destroyed beyond recognition, nothing more than a bubbling mass of blood and goo. Just a touch and his mother was aged before his eyes, her cries of agony as her skin rebelled against her, her bones cracking, her skin flaking, eyes sinking into their sockets, her body curling in on itself until, with a crack she broke into dust, into nothing. Just a touch, one lazy touch, and he saw his sister's skin peel off her back, curling off her fingers as if she had been placed against a giant grater. She screamed and screamed even after all of it lay around her and she was nothing but an exposed mass of muscle and blood._

_Kronos turned and looked up at him. His eyes meet Nico's, it was impossible considering they weren't even in the same building but they did. Those golden eyes registered his existence, he_ knew  _Nico could see them, he knew this and made a spectacle out of his families death. He was toying with them, torturing them for his own sick amusement and Nico's own disturbance._

_Nico wished he could close his eyes but that didn't matter the images weren't playing without him, they came from within, from some hidden place he didn't know existed. Bianca had stopped screaming at this point, just looked blank, unmoving; you wouldn't even have known she was alive if not for the faint rise and fall of her chest. Kronos smirked and snapped his fingers._

_Bianca's eyes widened and Nico watched in horror as the skin around her stomach began to spiral, circling around and around, her body being sucked into some invisible spiral. She screamed, "Get it out!" and screamed, "Get it out of me!" she clawed at her stomach, ripping at it, "Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!" She was beyond caring now, the pain was too much she cracked she cried her tears red with blood, stomach acid running down her front, burning her legs. The spiraling stopped. Bianca di Angelo, the last living relative he had, was dead._

_He felt tears well in his eyes, he felt like he was going to be sick, but he couldn't puke he couldn't do anything but see, and for once he wished nothing more for himself than to be blind. To not be able to see. But then it stopped, just like that it was over. Kronos dropped his bloody hands to his sides, his sword not even leaving its sheath, a crimson pool spreading around his feet._

_Kronos pointed. You, it said. You. This is all your fault. Nico tried to cry, he tried to feel something, to make his body react but he couldn't, he could only float there slowly falling._

Do you still wish to live?  _A new voice. A woman's voice._

_Nico steeled himself. "Yes." His voice came out strong in his head. He felt something in him die in that moment, some inherent good, some innocence, but he was willing to lose that, willing to lose it all if it gave him a chance at revenge._

When Life's own crest doth Death now wear

Misery shall spread itself through the air

Cataclysm and Curse shall intertwine

Until they form a single vine

Hate and Thanatos, their rules they now break

In hopes that their offspring can offset this quake

Events unfold that none can answer

Until Death's own child makes Life its Master

_The words played in his head like a mantra, searing themselves into his mind, as hot as brand, unforgettable, and he fell, faster and faster, the world blurring the ground coming up to meet him, shifting, opening, groaning under the force around, a static electricity like a vibration of life running from everything to that one spot directly below Nico._

_The young prince screamed._

_Shadow engulfed him._

_Nothing remained._

- **Betrothed-**  


Triton walked down the open air halls of Atlantis, no one touched him here, no one approached him, no one dared, he was infuriated and everyone knew it. They knew not to cross paths with the warrior when he was like this.

Well... almost everyone.

His mother was an exception to that rule, one he had to tolerate regardless of his mood. And unfortunately his mood had been less than stellar these past few days. Of course it was only natural for her to want him when he was at his moodiest.

He stormed into the pavilion and Sally smiled and waved him over, Triton begrudgingly followed her instruction.

"What do you want?" He growled at her. Hell he may not be able to strangle her like he really wanted to right now, but he didn't have to be nice to her too.

Sally raised an eyebrow. "Is that anyway to speak to your mother?"

Triton just glared.

Sally sighed. "Well I just wanted to be with my second born child, is that such a crime?" She asked playfully. It was obvious she wasn't being serious.

Triton made a face. "I have better things to do then entertain you woman, important things like finding out who poisoned my father, your  _husband_ , and wringing his  _damn_  neck."

"Always so violent aren't you?" She stated, bringing the cup of tea up to her lips. "Well I suppose I shouldn't waist your valuable time." A sad smile crossed her lips, "Your father wanted to see you." She set the cup down. "I'd hurry if I were you, he seemed exceedingly anxious."

Triton turned to leave but Sally stopped him. "Oh, and bring Percy, he asked to see him too."

Triton nodded. "I'll try."

"I suppose that's all you can do hmmm?"

"I guess so."

Triton left the pavilion feeling heavy in his soul. The second Prince scratched his beard, something was wrong, what was the cause of this sudden summons? Not to mention the King hadn't asked to see Percy since he'd been initially bed ridden. So what was the reason?

Triton approached his younger brother's room and threw the door open.

"Perc-!" He began, but almost instantly recoiled at the sight in front of him.

His brother was even worse than he thought. Percy was all skin and bones and sunken cheeks and the air reeked with his stench, he had to fight back a gag as he stepped further into the room.

"Percy," He said less forcefully this time, strolling across the room and throwing open a window, before turning to his brother's virtually catatonic form. "Percy!" He hissed, throwing the blanket off of him, sightless sea green eyes meeting his own, it was disturbing how it looked like his brother wasn't even home in there.

"Percy! Snap out of it! Father wants to see us!"

Nothing.

No reaction.

Triton didn't know what to do, well... nothing besides trying to shock him awake. So that's what he did. Triton took a breath, hefted a hand up beside him and...

Slapped Percy in the face.

- **Betrothed-**  


Percy was floating.

He didn't know where, he didn't know how, but he was floating, and Nico was with him; that was the only thing that mattered. Nico turned to him, his dark smirk playing at his lips, tugging lightly at those pink corners, so perfect in his mind even when they were chapped, even when cut or bleeding, they were perfect. Percy sighed and followed. Who was he to deny Nico's command?

The Lost Prince was only a few steps ahead of him, but those few steps were too far, much too far, he was too far away if Percy couldn't hold him, couldn't feel him, couldn't touch him, couldn't feel the warmth from him. Percy reached out to him, closer, closer, closer... almost in his grasp, almost, then...

A sharp stunning pain to the side of his face.

He frowned, bringing a hand to his cheek, and the pain came again, harder this time, Nico was slowly getting further and further away; he had stopped trying to wave at him and now just walked on, leaving him behind.

"Nico!" He screamed, as another sting came to the other cheek. The raven haired boy didn't turn, just kept going, slowly fading out of focus, slowly getting to be too far away for him to see. "Nico!" He yelled again, but now he was gone, faded anyway into oblivion, probably never to be seen again.

Percy fell to his knees, defeated, dejected, crestfallen, and felt tears streaking down his face. Even now in his dreams he couldn't keep him safe, couldn't keep him close and that made a pain more real than the one he was already feeling.

Slowly the room swam back into focus and the scene in his mind faded away, replaced with the figure of his brother, with his hand raised ready to strike him again.

"What do you want?" He croaked.

"Father wants to see us."

It took Percy a moment, but finally the statement registered in his brain, and he slowly nodded. "Okay." He tried to sit up and failed, his arms giving out from under him.

Triton rolled his eyes and hooked his arms around Percy, lifting him up off the ground. He was light. Too light. "You better stay awake." He growled as they made there way out of Percy's room and down the hall towards the room they held their father.

Percy's brow scrunched in confusion. This wasn't the way to his father's room... this was the direction of the infirmary. His eyes widened. Did something happen to Poseidon?

He grabbed at his older brother's tunic. "What's wrong with father?"

Triton looked down at him, silent contempt behind his eyes, of course Percy didn't know what was going on. "He was poisoned." He stated simply.

"By a poison we have no cure for." Percy finished.

Triton nodded his head.

"How long?"

"About a week."

Percy sighed. "I see.."

As the fog continued to leave his mind he became painfully aware of his condition, yet again, only worse than before. He didn't even want to look in a mirror now, fearing the image he'd see, probably nothing more than a skeleton if his bony arms told him anything.

The two walked into the infirmary and they followed the sounds of coughing to the end of the room where Poseidon lay, cut off from the world, a simple cloth screen the only divider. Triton pulled that back now and called quietly into the dark space. "Father?"

Poseidon coughed again, but this time he managed to lift himself up some and turn in the direction of their voices. His eyes, they almost seemed to be looking through them as if he was... "Is Percy with you?"

Percy felt his stomach drop to the floor, blind, his father was blind, the poison had taken his sight, and leeched the color from his body, his once black hair now startlingly white.

"Yes." Percy managed, voice cracking slightly. "I'm here."

"Good," He coughed and brought a hand to his mouth, before taking a breath. It sounded watery, like his lungs were filled with fluids. "Bring him here."

Triton nodded, then remembering his father couldn't see said. "Okay."

Poseidon waited patiently as he heard the sounds of footsteps and the scraping of a chair being drawn towards the bed. It was strange just how loud everything seemed now that he couldn't see, his ears seemingly wanting to compensate for the loss of his eyes.

"Is he comfortable?"

"I'm fine father," Percy stated, looking into his fathers sightless eyes.

Poseidon nodded. "You must wonder why I've called you here." Neither boy responded to that so the King continued. "I am dying," He said simply, too close to death to want to sugar coat the fact. "I do not have much longer to live, the poison within me eats at my life as we speak." He paused to cough again, this time Percy could see specks of red on his hand. "Triton, leave us. I've already said my part to you," He took a breath. "Remember my words, heed them, take Percy's advice when you are king, it would serve you well, and respect his wishes, do not deny him what he truly desires. Promise me you'll do this."

Triton agreed with a shake of his head, though he looked anything but agreeable. "I promise."

"Thank you... now let me speak with your brother alone."

Poseidon waited as he heard the sound of the bed creak at the loss of weight and the muttered curses of his heir. "Is he gone?" He finally asked, hearing nothing.

"He's gone," Percy confirmed, Poseidon hummed in approval.

The room fell into silence as the dying King caught his breath. Percy waited, hunger gnawing at his belly.

"Death is a funny thing, isn't it Perseus?" His father finally. "You fear it for all of your life, but when it finally comes, you welcome it, it means no more worries, no more cares, no more pain."

Percy nodded, not wanting to interrupt what his father had to say. "Perseus, I know, Triton will make a good king, a good one as long as he has you by side, don't let him push you away like I'm sure he'll try to... and Percy?"

Percy cleared his throat, he felt something change in Poseidon's tone, something that called for him to respond. "Yes?"

"You did the right thing."

Percy's brow scrunched in confusion. "Wha- what?"

"Protecting the di Angelo boy, Sabien was it?"

Percy was shocked. "How did you know?"

Poseidon laughed. "You forget Hades and I were friends, I'd recognize his boy, especially when he looks so much like his father did at his age." A wry grin crossed his lips, sightless eyes seeing into memory. "I wish you'd have told me, we could've done far more if I'd been able to interfere directly, but I suppose love makes even the smartest blind."

Percy shifted uncomfortably, he didn't like where this conversation was going. "Wh- what do you mean?" He seemed to be asking that a lot lately.

"You and the di Angelo boy? You shared... intimate relations did you not?"

Percy had another moment of confusion. "Y- you mean-"

"Yes Percy, I know you loved him, you weren't as subtle as you thought, and don't forget the token you gave him."

"The ring," Percy whispered, finally piecing something together.

Poseidon nodded. "Indeed, he never takes it off." The king coughed again, this time more violently than before, obvious blood splattering his robes.

"Father perhaps-"

Poseidon waved him off. "Shut up and listen. You and the di Angelo boy, your love set events in motion we can not predict, it paved the way for Kronos's rise to power." He coughed again, a spasming thing and blood dribbled down his chin.

Percy's heart was beating frantically in his chest. "I- I don't understand."

"Of course not, and I don't have time to explain things to you, just take this advice: Visit the Oracle of Thebes and follow your heart." He took a ragged breath. He motioned for Percy to come in closer. "I do not believe him to be dead."

Percy took in a breath, there was no mistaking who  _"him"_  was, but... how? How would he know? What made him think that. He didn't understand.

"Father! What did you mea-," He stopped mid sentence. His father had stopped moving.

"Father?" The king didn't move, didn't breath and a stabbing sinking feeling entered his being. He gained one but not the other, like some sort of sick trade off he wished he didn't have to participate in. Poseidon, he had died. The Great King of Atlantis, his father, his teacher, his biggest advisor, was gone, never to speak again. No good-bye, no I love you, nothing but wisdom and a quest. A quest he would fulfill.

"Triton," He called; he turned as he heard the older man walk into the room.

"Is he... ?" He asked motioning to the bed.

Percy nodded his head, wiping tears he hadn't felt fall down his face before continuing. "Can you get me something to eat? I have an Oracle to see."

Triton, stood there for a moment, slightly shocked to hear that his brother was going to eat, but then nodded quickly, leaving the room to tell the maids the news.

Percy turned back around in his chair, his eyes falling on his father; he clenched his fists, face molding to something of determination. He felt a spark of something in him in that moment, hope, Nico might still be alive, but something else as well, something darker, a need for revenge.

He would see this Oracle and get whatever prophecy or wisdom she had to give him.

He would find Nico.

Percy reached across and placed a hand on his father's eyelids to close them.

Then he'd kill Kronos.

And he'd make sure he got nothing but hell for what he'd done.

- **Betrothed-**  


Jason sat on the window sill looking out and sighed. Nothing ever happened here in Olympus, why couldn't they get some action like Tartarus? He'd heard about what had befallen Atlantis and for a second he had hoped that he'd finally get to see battle and stop with these useless lessons, but of course that was too much to ask for. His father hadn't even considered the option of sending aid to their neighboring kingdom.

No instead he had ordered even more defenses around the city and countryside, they wouldn't be caught unawares this time, his father was indeed becoming paranoid in his older age, though maybe it was warranted considering that now two of the three major kingdoms had fallen to this mysterious Dark King.

"Bored?"

Jason turned, and made a face at his sister, Thalia. "Of course, you know I have no tolerance for reading."

"Of course, the male chauvinist returns, leave the strategy to the girl hmm?"Thalia put a hand on her hip.

Jason smirked and pushed his blonde hair out of his face. "You know me too well sister, I'd much rather be out fighting then stuck in a tactical room."

"Strategy has its merit," Thalia countered.

"So does a fist." Jason laughed. "Faster too."

Thalia rolled her eyes. "You're such a man, I worry for our kingdom when you're king."

"Sister you wound me, I'd make a great king."

"Yes, sure, right until war happens and you order everyone to just run and kill."

"That would be an effective plan."

"No that's an effective death tra- What's that?" Thalia's eyes widened and she pointed behind him.

Jason turned and furrowed his brow. "What's what?"

"There. On the Horizon."

Jason squinted. "I don't...-" His eyes widened. "Fire." He whispered. "It's fire!"

"And soldiers," Thalia mumbled, "Look."

Jason looked, his sister was right, he saw the line of black coming forward. "We're under attack." Jason couldn't believe it. "We're under attack!"

He turned and ran towards the door, grabbing his spear from its resting place by the door.

It was time to fight.

- **Betrothed-**  


_**Sins of Lust Filled Love** _

**-END-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pt 3 Teaser for next week~
> 
> The Widows did not move.  
>  Not even after every last one of them had a bowmen with an arrow nocked and ready to fire at their heads. They stood their ground, unwavering in their determination, they surrounded the castle. They stood just outside those golden gates, the gates that to this day had never been beaten down or broken. For nothing from this world or the heavens above could break them.  
>  Yet the Widows remained. They felt no fear, they felt no shame, they felt no remorse, the felt nothing at all. They did not fail, they did not back down, they did not return without their prize. They were the right hands of Kronos, his avenging fist, and executioners blade. The bowmen drew their strings taut, their eyes locked on their targets. Nothing from heaven or earth could breech these walls. They let their arrows fly.  
>  Well the Widows weren't of either.  
>  Hell had been unleashed upon the Shining City.


	3. Sins of Forbidden Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None

**-Betrothed-**

_**Sins of Forbidden Love** _

Olympus was under attack.

Fire sprung from the hilltops, leaped from building to building; screams echoing across the countryside and down the cobble-stoned streets, streams of blood seeping between the cracks, turning the ground a dirty brown as it mixed with the dirt and ash around it. A river of crimson flowed down the pathways, following the ever rising symphony of despair; leaving only destruction in its wake. Metal cladded boots and steel tipped spears, armor as black as night, capes that blotched out the moon, the air steadily growing hazy, smoke billowing in the air; the sky a deep crimson red, the flames reflected in its distortion.

Children screamed for mothers, mothers screamed for their children, begged for their safety, yet their cries were ignored. The only pity they obtained was through the kiss of death; a final pain as cold steel slipped through their flesh before the life left their eyes, their souls slipping away from the world they had known as their home. The black knights moved steadily through the carnage, silent as wisps, deadly as a plague, as dark as the endless sky. The front runners, the elite of Kronos' army, they were the ones that had no story, for no one lived to tell it, they were death incarnate; the hand of Kronos when he himself was not there.

The Order of the Dark.

The Hands of Time.

The Red Widows.

A rouge hourglass stood prominently on their chests, an emblem that instilled fear into the hearts of any who laid eyes upon it, some infernal magic twisting the small seal into something chaotic - evil - demonic in nature. A device used in the guise of Medusa, coiling that petrifying emotion into all who opposed them. Warping their emotions, grappling with that force of intimidation and pulling from the very core a phobia so dark they begged for death.

Death had become the only release in there eyes.

There had been none who could withstand their might. There would be none. Could be none. Shall never be one. For they were like the shadows, darkness only hid its face, and light - light only made it stronger. Always by your side they stayed - forever aware of your presence while their enemy remained oblivious to theirs. Until the last moment, until they no longer remained.

Another spark lost to the wind.

One that would never catch.

The peasants ran towards their castle. The symbol of hope they now took solace in. They ran for the circular walls that protected their royalty, knowing that in this time of crisis they would be saved from this plague by their might. Nothing could breech the walls of Olympus. Nothing the three kingdoms could throw at them. Nothing from this world. Nothing from heaven or Earth.

The final peasant crossed the threshold of the gates. The last survivor to make it to this oasis of hope. The Red Widows stood outside and watched as the gates began to close, their archers taking position upon the battlements above them, arrows tipped with tar and lit with fire. They took aim, drawing their bows back, feeling the tightening of the wood in their grips as their eyes scoured the darkness for a spot of crimson.

The Widows did not move.

Not even after every last one of them had a bowmen with an arrow knocked and ready to fire at their heads. They stood their ground, unwavering in their determination, they surrounded the castle. They stood just outside those golden gates, the gates that to this day had never been beaten down or broken. For nothing from this world or the heavens above could break them.

Yet the Widows remained. They felt no fear, they felt no shame, they felt no remorse, the felt nothing at all. They did not fail, they did not back down, they did not return without their prize. They were the right hands of Kronos, his avenging fist, and executioners blade. The bowmen drew their strings taut, their eyes locked on their targets. Nothing from heaven or earth could breech these walls. They let their arrows fly.

Well the Widows weren't of either.

Hell had been unleashed upon the Shining City.

**-Betrothed-**

_Blackness. Dark and unforgiving. Spinning. Falling. Drowning. Flying. Twisting through oblivion. Unsure of up. Unsure of down. His body cascaded forward. Or was it backwards? His skin tingled, his flesh... if he could see it, standing at attention, goosebumps on every folical. As if struck by lightning._

_Through a vacuum. Down a shaft. Squeezed through a straw. Molded. Melded. Mended. Broken. Pain traveled through his core. Tears flung themselves into the darkness. Nauseating. Mind numbing. Spinning. Spinning. Spinning._

_Disoriented beyond belief, words echoed through his mind, traveled down his spine, up his arteries in his veins his nerves, his being. Until it was properly installed into the recesses of his mind._

_Thump!_

_Bump!_

_Flash!_

_Crash!_

_Faster and Faster. Higher and Higher. His mind was shutting down. His body was creaking. Aging. Dying. Cracking at the seams. Break. Break. Breaking. The pressure built. Moving through his tongue, a hot orb. A glob of suffocating fluid. Expanding. Spreading. Growing. Seeping in every pore. Hot pain. The feeling of gravity being reinstated. The feeling of being put back together. An agonizing glue as everything was forced into its spot, like a jigsaw where every piece was wrong._

_Sound didn't permeate this space. Life didn't exist. Time stood still. Only night stayed. Night and shadow._

_Nico fell. Nico grew. The universe was his oyster. Air grew scarce. His vision blurry. He gasped like a fish. His mind begged. His lungs screamed. Spots of darkness over layed the night. His eyes grew heavy. Tight. His limbs sluggish. Like lead._

_Oblivion swallowed him._

**-Betrothed-**

_... and if through despair one sings_

_The parable of darkness swells free_

_A light I can no longer see_

_A spirit tainted beyond belief_

_My heart is tainted_

_My dreams impure_

_Regret colors my fingers_

_Loathing tarnishes my soul ..._

Tyson's fingers moved across the strings, strumming them, his voice a depressingly melodious swell over each sweet, pure note the instrument intoned. A crystal pinging noise; it was clear and strong, a drastic contrast to the words that left his perfectly pink, expertly puckered lips. Like the naive child it sung out free of sorrow, free of the burden that darkened the singer from which the song drew its power from, its soul. The notes floated and melded, harmonizing in a synchronistic union, one that went beyond that which could be easily seen. That which could be understood with the naked eye. Or even those who believed themselves experts of the laws of the spirit.

Indeed it was as if a cloud stood over him, forcing him to bask in a spirit crushing, mind numbing, tear inducing gray. One that made all colors seem to blend, to melt into pastels, sucking away the life and jubilation that at one time might have been attributed to him. Though it can also be said (and would be true) that even in his better days he remained caustic and narcissistic. It can only be blamed on the fact that everything was handed to him on a silver platter. A mistake the royals were blind to fix, in reality blind to even see.

No, they had been too busy running the kingdom, fulfilling everyone else's desires:  _"Oh mi'lord please spare us some seed for our farms." "Oh! mi'lady my wee little welp is ill, please spare 'im a doctor!"_ Ever the caring dictators, the positive monarchs, the ones that ruled the people into a golden age. Yes they had been too busy for poor little Tyson. The King's Bastard. The Mistake of the Kingdom. An embarrassment. A well kept secret. Those days had been the hardest for the boy.

It wasn't like the King and Queen had purposefully neglected him, it just slipped their minds - and that made it all the worse - he hadn't even been on the agenda. They left him to the wet nurses, the maids, the servants and butlers. They were the ones who attended his every need, fulfilled his every desire, filled him to the brim with anything his mind could think of. There were no limits, no end to what could be accomplished with a few choice words... well when he finally learned to talk.

That was the other thing, for the longest Poseidon and Sally feared him mute and dumb. He did nothing but stare into space and scream. They thought his lack of mental development meant him less capable than other children. Another reason to keep him hidden. A subconscious truth that the royals played into against what reason told them.

In all actuality it was just the only way Tyson knew to get his parents attention. All he wanted was to be loved, to be noticed. Held. Sang to. Spoken to. By his parents.

No amount of material wealth could mask that single base urge.

It can be supposed that Tyson's seemingly uncharacteristically self centered ways can only be explained as another form in which the now walking and talking older boy lashed out. An act. Another way he felt he could gain attention. For that's what he craved; by this time Triton had been born, another distraction from himself, and Triton, unlike himself, was not a disappointment.

Time passed and slowly yet surely Tyson did more and more to try and show himself worthy of attention. He showed an interest in the arts, excelling in music; he would try to perform for his parents but they would always brush him aside. They didn't have time for trivial things like entertainment. It was not becoming of a royal to be so invested in comedic interests. It was not befitting of a future king (for at this time he still was the heir). He should be spending more time learning strategy and combat, less time in the clouds and looking pretty. There would be no time for that in war.

It broke Tyson's heart it did. It hurt all the more knowing that he couldn't truly hate his parents either. They never beat him, never denied him his clothes or make-up or any of the other myriad of things most would deem "queer" or "unusual" or "unnatural" for a boy to desire. He couldn't hate them, because... they wouldn't listen.

They never listened.

Only Percy would.

Tyson stopped playing and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, baby soft smooth skin brushing away the salty liquid sorrow that threatened to spill from the confines of his seeing orifices. And returns the guilt. The stabbing pain that lodged itself in his chest like a poisoned bolt. A thing that ate at the inside of ones body and mind until they went insane. He betrayed his family yes, but his family hadn't ever really cared about him. All of them but Percy, and Tyson had ruthlessly stabbed the sea prince in the back with hardly a second thought. How could he?

His shoulders began to shake, a deranged smile on his lips. What was wrong with him? Was he going crazy? Ha! A bubbling laugh. Forced through sealed lips. He laughed through his tears, a hysterical sounding psychosis of the spirit. Or perhaps the mind. It was easy. Obvious. He knew why. Because he was jealous, because his youngest brother had something he did not. He had love. Percy'd always been loved; he was father's favorite, he was a favorite among the servants and even his mother had a special place just for him in her heart.

Tyson placed the lyre in his hands shakily to the side, resting it beside him and bit his lip. Blood welled where tooth met flesh, pushing, ripping, puncturing through sensitive nerve endings and tissue to the soft insides below. He still couldn't help the anger that swept through him at the thought of everything that went Percy's way. He could do no wrong, and wrong refused to follow him. Or even show him its blasted face. Yet everything Tyson did ended in disappointment or an upturned nose or a downtrodden expression.

What did he ever do to deserve that?

Live?

Red hair hung low over his face. Tyson's mouth set in a trembling line. An aura of darkness settled over him. Wind shifted the pages of his notebook, ruffled through his clothes and caressed his cheeks. It made him feel even colder. Emptier. Just like the city in which he resided.

Tartarus had claimed his soul.

**-Betrothed-**

_"...s he dead?"_

_"I don't know, give me space."_

_Fingers gently pressed against his neck, someone's warm breath tickling his cheek._

_"He's still breathing... and he has a pulse... "_

_"That constitutes as alive right?"_

_The light moved above him, hitting his eyes, and Nico felt the air shift around him; the person must have moved._

_"Yes Frank,... for his kind it does."_

_"His kind?"_

_"Human Frank, you know what a human is, I take you to the market all the time, don't play dumb."_

_"Hmmm, Hazel?"_

_"What?"_

_"Why doesn't he wake up? And... how'd he get here if he isn't like us?"_

_"I don't know," Hazel's lips quirked into a playful smirk. "Why don't we ask him? Ikni!"_

_A shock. Hazel's eyes flashed gold and a feeling like a thousand volts of lightning surged through him. Sudden and direct; Nico gasped, eyes flying open, back arching, a burst of energy pushing against his chest, pressing down against the garbs that donned his back. A heady out of body feeling filled his senses, the air becoming thick, palpable, like an invisible film covering everything in its wake. Intoxicating, sweet and sour, dark and light, mysterious and seductive._

_Just out of his reach._

_Out of his grasp, out of his control, fleeting, ephemeral; it was over. The power dissipated disappearing, reverting to that natural state of untapped potential. Draining away. His mind cried out "No!", his body hungered for its touch, for the feeling of security and strength it gave him. A feeling that, now gone, left him powerless; empty. Worthless. Nico breathed, the near high his body felt siphoned away, his muscles ached, his mind cried out for more. He was like an addict that had gotten his first fix. Never to be satisfied by a lesser substance again. He would do anything, pay any cost to feel that power again._

_Nico sat up shakily, the thin fabric blanket draped across him from shoulder to foot, slipping from his shoulders and pooling down at his middle revealing the damaged shirt underneath. He rolled his neck, wincing slightly as the movement worked the stiffness of the hard stone floor out of his muscles, his arms almost giving out from the simple action, his coal black eyes taking in the room he now resided in._

_It was a simple place. One room made of stone, a thatched roof supported by wooden timber, glass-less open aired windows, a light covering of straw strewn about the floor to retain just a mere fraction of the heat the cold threatened to take away. A stone hearth rested behind him; he could hear the crackle of flames and the warmth against the nape of his neck, pinpricks of sweat beginning to pool there. A wooden table sat in one corner a shelf of books beside it. Many more lined the walls adding a certain livable clutter to the place, adding character and inciting more curiosity in his ever suspicious mind._

_"What was that?" He asked, voice raw and raspy from the lack of use._

_The dark skinned girl, one who appeared to be only slightly younger than himself if at all, looked up, her diaphanous garb leaving little of her physique left to the human imagination. The fire glinted off her golden eye shadow, dark chocolate eyes staring into him with the wisdom of a girl more than twice her age. Her hands lay in her lap and her hair rested on the top of her head in a neat bun, strange markings, characters he'd never seen before, crawled their away across her flesh. He gulped - even as he watched they began to fade away, leaving her skin as silky smooth as a babies bottom._

_"What are you?" Slight fear evident in his eyes though his voice and body showed none of it, an aspect of his father's training surfacing as he dealt with the mysterious girl._

_The girl, Hazel, he remembered another person saying her name - a boy - one who he now spotted slouching against the far wall beside a large bed on the other side of the room now bathed in shadow, cocked her head to the side and fixed him with a curious glance. "We could ask you the same thing."_

_Nico's face scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean? I'm human. You said it yourself."_

_"You heard that hm? Well then-," she clapped her hands together, "I beg to differ. You most certainly are not 'human'." Hazel paused again before continuing. "At least not in the traditional sense. Not anymore."_

_She stood and for a second her form shifted, a temporary transparency a flash, as if seeing through some sort of veil, Nico blinked, surprised and it was gone. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd imagined it. "Then what am I?"_

_She reached over him, her gown swishing over her body forcing Nico to turn away, grabbing the tea pot that rested on the hearth as a light blush dusted his cheeks, one that could be easily blamed by the heat against his neck, and hidden by the shadows dancing on his face._

_"Frank dear, please bring me the cups, we can't be ungracious hosts now can we?"_

_The boy huffed and pushed himself away from the wall before strutting over to one of the cabinets by the table and taking out a tray of cups, the gentle clinking echoing in the room. Nico's eyes followed his movements, it was slightly comical seeing him do this considering the vast amount of muscle that rippled right under his skin. It was like watching a bear pick up a flower. Or maybe cuddling a bunny rabbit it didn't intend to eat. Something ridiculous like that._

_Frank quickly closed the space between them and placed the tray on the ground beside Hazel who elegantly began pouring tea into the oddly pristine china cups. Nico kept quiet, watching the dark steaming liquid fill the cups one at a time. Hazel hummed quietly to herself and placed the kettle back on the hearth behind him._

_"Tea?" She asked._

_"What am I?" Nico repeated, his voice hardly more than a growl, ignoring the extended cup in front of him._

_Hazel cocked her head again. "No tea then?" Nico glared, and Hazel shrugged, retracting her hand and placing the cup to her lips. She raised an eyebrow and took a sip. "Mmm - delicious - isn't that right Frank?"_

_Frank fixed a steely stare on the young di Angelo boy - not even taking a sip - before nodding in response, finally bringing the cup to his lips._

_Nico made a face, lips scrunching in an obvious look of irritation, his fingers drumming on his lap while he watched them slowly drink the tea from their cups. "Are you going to answer my question?"_

_Hazel continued to sip, quietly and delicately bringing the cup to her lips, before finally setting it aside, empty, on the tray. She looked behind him, glancing momentarily at the hearth before focusing her attention on Frank, waiting until he set his cup down to begin speaking._

_Nico's face remained an impeccable mirror of disdain as he watched the chocolate skinned girl's mind work in front of him. Why wouldn't she just give him a straight answer? He'd already waited over five minutes for her to finish her blasted tea! He was growing restless, the metaphorical ants on his legs pattering across almost every inch of him. He needed release, a release from this blasted conundrum that was the mystery of what he was._

_Nico huffed, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips, before growling, "just tell me dammit."_

_Hazel looked at him, surprised by his outburst and replied evenly. "Well that's the simple part- you're an Adept, Nico di Angelo, first prince, or rather, Lost Prince, of Tartarus." She smiled, the shock written on Nico's face mildly amusing. "Welcome to the realm of the Gods."_

**-Betrothed-**

The ride back to Elysium was a quiet one.

But it was anything but peaceful.

Again Nico's head rested against the window pane. Agian he was unable to look out. Again his wrists and ankles were bound in chains. Again his silver crown of thorns bit into his scalp. The carriage lurched, bounced and lunged across the cobbled streets, the sound of wooden wheels on stone echoing in a muted fashion through the few cracks the sound could find.

Nico's eyes traveled across the carriage - face still glued to the cool glass that fogged momentarily every time his breath left his nose - settling on the slender curly blonde lad that was now across from him. The new variable, the thing that had changed. Apollo, Second Prince in the line of Castellan. Nico huffed and maneuvered himself into less of a slouch, carefully trying not to jar his chains against his wrists any more than necessary; they were raw enough as it is.

Nico tried to relax, tried to school the calm and cool, apathetic, exterior he had mastered long ago and wore like coat on a rainy day - something he did as easily and automatically as breathing - and felt the velvet softness of the plush seat cushions beneath him. But it was no use, no matter how he closed his eyes, how he tried to ignore the sharp bite of metal on flesh or the rub of wood against the junction of his knee, these things continued to come back, to mock and humiliate him.

 _Remind him he was worthless_.

His breath began to come in shallow, and he bit his lip, forcing down the nauseating panic that welled within him - that threatened to spill from his lips and further ruin the imagine he tried to maintain.

_His fingers glided against the steel of his ring absentmindedly._

Oh Percy, if only he was here now. He felt the groves against his thumb, felt how perfectly smooth it was now in places were his fingers had worried away the inscriptions. But he knew them by heart anyway. Imagining Percy's voice, imagining he was here, if just for a moment gave him the strength to continue on for just a little while longer.

_His finger made its way to the engraved trident. He felt the prongs underneath his finger, the deep groves that had yet to even begin to wear._

But for how much longer could he resist? There was no denying it now. He was breaking. Falling. Drowning. Deeper into the darkness he went, further from the light, further from the goal he had in mind. He could hardly even remember what love felt like. All that was left was anger and a boiling rage that craved nothing but blood.

 _"Oi desmoí ti̱s oikogéneias eínai ischyróteroi apó tous desmoús ti̱s moíras."_ The words left his lips almost subconciously, slipping from his grasp like invisible threads of string.

_The ledge he grabbed for and just barely missed._

Apollo looked up, Nico's soft voice jarring him from his thoughts. "What?"

Nico opened his eyes. "Hmmm?"

_He could see Percy's smile now, seductive, and sure; hear his timbre, remember the feel of his breath as he whispered those words in his ear after a moment of bliss._

"What did you say? Didn't sound like the Common Tongue."

Nico's eyes focused back on the curtain blocking his view of the outside. "It wasn't."

Apollo scoffed. "That much was obvious," he paused. "Are you going to tell me what it means?"

Nico smirked a very Percy-like smirk, one that quickly faded. It wasn't like Apollo would know. "No."

Apollo rolled his eyes. "It's a long ride you know."

Nico nodded. "I do."

Apollo shrugged and opened the book he'd been reading back up, "if you want to talk I'm always willing to drop the teachings of Socrates... there're only so many questions you can take in a day." he mumbled, more to the book than anyone in particular.

Nico glared. "I don't need your pity," he growled under his breath, eyes blazing and jaw set.

Apollo waved a hand noncommittally, eyes not leaving the page. "That pride of yours will be your downfall."

"I'll be sure yours comes first."

With that last scathing remark, the carriage fell back into silence. Nico staring at nothing, Apollo reading a book. His mind wandered back to Percy, something it tended to do ever more frequently, seeing that it was the one thing that kept him sane. Human. He knew what the inscription meant. It was engraved in the ring, part of the area that had been worn away.

_The bonds of family are stronger than the bonds of fate._

If only that were true now. If it were he wouldn't be stuck in Tartarus, his family wouldn't be dead, and he could still be with Percy at school, or in Atlantis, living happily as can be. Worry free and in love. The way they had been for that first six months.

_Before everything went to hell._

"I'm not like Luke you know, I don't want to hurt you," Apollo said without looking up from his book. "I don't hate you."

Nico scoffed. "And a hog doesn't shit."

"Well, it's true, take it or leave it."

Nico snorted. "I don't think so, hogs shit like the rest of us."

That had Apollo looking up. "What?"

"You said it's true," Nico smirked. "Last I checked hogs had asses too."

Apollo cracked a smile. "I feel like you just tried to make a joke and failed miserably. Am I right?"

"Perhaps," Nico conceded with a light chuckle, "joking was never my specialty, that was Percy's depart-" He trailed off, eyes growing melancholy, jovial mood dissipating quickly. "That was his area of expertise."

Apollo regarded him silently before sighing and closing his book with a snap; Nico looked up. "You two were really close weren't you." It was more a statement than a question.

Nico sighed, wishing he could run a hand through his hair, but knowing it was impossible. "Yeah," he said, there was no point in denying it, honestly he'd figured they all knew. He had been kidnapped in Percy's room, in Percy's bed only wearing pants and underwear.

Percy's underwear.

"You could say that."

Apollo looked at him. "I'm sorry." His voice was soft and Nico could see a flash of guilt in his eyes.

Nico huffed. "Thanks, but a sorry doesn't change anything," He glanced back at the curtained window, not wanting to see Apollo's despaired expression. What right did he have to look depressed anyway? It wasn't he who was forced to stay here against his will. "I'm still stuck here, forced to lie to my people," Nico's face contorted with disgust. "I don't deserve this crown, even if it is nothing more than a prop now."

Apollo's eyes continued to bore into him. He cleared his throat and Nico dragged his eyes away from his sightless view; Apollo's voice coming out as a whisper when he spoke. "If I could help you I would."

Nico scoffed before turning his dejected gaze on Apollo. He sighed. "But you can't."

Apollo matched his stare. "No," he let out a breath. "I can't."

"Then that's it isn't it."

Apollo gulped. "Yes... I guess it is."

**-Betrothed-**

_"Adept?" Nico's brow scrunched in confusion. "What the bloody hell is that?" He probably would've commented further by inquiring into whether they were truly sane or not, but considering the fact he had just witnessed the girl's magic first hand, even seen the marks fade from her otherwise unblemished flesh, well... to question her sanity would be the equivalent of questioning his own._

_And he had no desire to believe himself crazy._

_He had enough problems as it was without adding that on top of them._

_Hazel leveled her gaze on him, dark eyes filled with more wisdom than he felt comfortable with seeing in a girl her age. It made him feel naked -inferior- and he hated it. "Your pride will be your downfall di Angelo, unless you learn to quench its thirst." She said as she flicked her wrist, the tea kettle and cups hovering away from the platter to some some other corner of the room. Nico's eyes followed the movement, innately fascinated by the girl's power, still honestly not sure whether he was dreaming or not._

_If this was heaven, Nico was feeling jipped._

_Big time._

_"I'm not dead am I?" Nico asked gesturing to himself, dark brows lifting in inquiry. "Adept's not some perverse name for Angel is it?"_

_Hazel laughed; it was an annoyingly pleasant sound. "Why you're as ridiculous as expected."_

_Nico glared. "What's that supposed to mean."_

_"Nothing, just-," She took a breath and wiped her eyes, mouth twitching slightly as she tried to resist the urge to smile. "You're very original in your way of thinking. You're not a narrow-minded tactician of the physical world like your lover, Perseus Jackson. I like it. Respect it even. It shall prove to be of more use to you than you may think. Perhaps even your greatest weapon."_

_Nico frowned, his thumb immediately beginning to worry at the ring on his finger at the mention of Percy. "Percy's not... narrow-minded, he's the smartest man I know - wait... Jackson? Percy Jackson? His last name is Jackson?!"_

_Hazel smirked in his direction again, her hand reaching out to grab a cup only to stop midway, remembering they were no longer there. She frowned, and Nico got the distinct feeling that tea was more than just a drink for her. It was almost like she drank it just to irk him to some new profound height; acting as her device for dramatic effect. And now it was gone. A dark smile spread across Nico's face. Boo- hoo._

_"Yes, Jackson, third son of Poseidon and Sally Jackson, third in line to the throne of Atlantis, indeed one of the smartest people alive in the three kingdom's, yet extremely, unbelievably dense. His views of reality are blinded to what he reads, what he see's and what he hears. If there is no proof, no scientific, or logical explanation then it does not exist. It is a flaw. A thing that will prove to be a hindrance to him just as your pride will be to you."_

_"Two sides of the same coin is what you two are. And for each strength you two have comes a weakness. Be glad you are not Percy, for the greater the strength, the greater the weakness. The greater the Achilles heel. And Percy... his weakness's are great. His burdens greater."_

_"You ask me what an Adept is. Well. It is one who bears a great burden. One who's choices will effect your world in one form or another. One who'll steer the human race into a new era." She paused to breath and Nico remained silent, willing her to continue. "But there is more to it than that, both you and Percy are Adept's in your own respective ways, each of you shall bear a mark, one you bear already, and together you will move the world. But you- " Hazel jabbed her finger in his direction, and Nico instinctively moved back, "you are even more special, you have been granted extra time. The God's have seen fit to extend your life. And the privilege to use their sacred art. The power that created the world."_

_"The thing you call... magic."_

_For a moment everything was still. Not a creature breathed, not a thing moved. Everything was silent. Still. Waiting. Even the fire quieted in anticipation._

_Nico gulped and ran a shaky hand through his bangs."No way- I don't - I can't - Percy should - ," Nico took a breath and ran his tongue over his lips nervously, hand tugging gently at his hair as he tried to get his point across. "I don't deserve it. Take it back."_

_Hazel laughed, holding her arms out in an open gesture. "Well, I'm not a God, not even close, nor do I control what they do, I'm merely their eternal messenger," She smirked and in that moment Nico saw a flash of dark humor that he had seen so often in his own family, "besides even if I could - which I can't - I wouldn't change a thing, I rather do enjoy the sight of your squirming, it brings me great-" She made a noise in the back of her throat and spun her hand in thought, "amusement." She finished._

_Nico huffed and glared, crossing his arms over his thin frame. "Fine," he paused and set his jaw looking off to the right - away from her, eyes settling on some random object, a vase filled with god knows what. "At least tell me what the Mark is. What does it do?"_

_She clapped her hands together. "Oh that's easy!" She beckoned him over with her pointer finger. "Get up and turn around." She demanded._

_He made a face, "bossy," but did as he was told._

_Hazel only smiled and placed a delicate hand on the middle of his back. "But you asked, it's not like I'm telling you to jump off a cliff."_

_The raven haired boy's brows scrunched. "How the hell did you even come to that conclusion?"_

_"Isn't that something humans say to one another? 'If everyone jumped off the cliff would you follow?'" She looked over at Frank who just shrugged. "Don't look at me, I go out less than you do."_

_Nico sighed. "It is but... it had nothing to do with the situation."_

_Hazel hummed in thought and tapped a finger against his back, Nico made a small noise of protest in the back of his throat. "I'll keep that in mind. Now then... this- this might hurt. A lot."_

_"Wait, wha- OW!" Nico flinched away, the sudden searing sensation coursing through him. His body tensed and tingled at the point of contact and he felt a bottled up energy flowing within him, just beneath the surface. He gasped, it felt like he was going to explode._

_"Lift up your shirt."_

_He gasped. "I- I can't."_

_Hazel frowned. "Of course you can."_

_Nico shook his head, body trembling, the pressure building, swirling, whirling moving within him like a hurricane, searching eagerly for an exit but finding none, just remaining. Growing stronger. Pulling him apart, pushing at every seam in his body, wanting out, wanting to be free. He realized what it was. It was the same feeling he'd felt only moments before when Hazel had forced him to awaken. His wish had been granted, he had the power, but now it was out of his control._

_Hazel put a hand on the back of his neck, felt the sheen of sweat beneath her fingers; felt below that, felt the thrum of power she'd awakened within him from a simple touch. She often times forgot how fragile the human form was, how... squishy, and fleshy, how easily broken. She'd knocked on the doorway that connected the young prince to the world of the arcane - a wild new found power - and forced it open._

_Nico had no way of coping, no way of channeling, no way of forcing it back and it was eating him alive. Even if he remained in this world between worlds that Hazel lived in, the force would eat at his sanity, claw at it, choke him between its fingers and his mind would turn to mush. Even as it was, the moment he left this place the magic would be even more volatile, more uncontrollable than before, for that was the nature of his abilities. The form it chose to take, the form that his will commanded it to be._

_A force of destruction._

_A tool for vengence._

_An energy to be controlled by that base feeling of hate and anger, by the swallowing madness that seeked a foothold in his mind; by the darkness of his soul._

_She trailed a finger down his neck, and rubbed gentle circles on his back. "Breath," she whispered. Hazel could see the marks against his flesh, flashing an angry red, pulsing black and crimson, churning like the murky depths of a mountain of fire, chaotic and untamed._

_Nico took a shaky breath and cried out as another spasm of pain wracked through his body._

_"Breath, Nico, breath," She commanded. "Open yourself to me, don't fight the touch, let me help you."_

_Nico whimpered and his spine tightened to the point Hazel worried it would snap. He felt her touch, and he tried to relax but he couldn't. He could feel the undercurrent of what was happening too, he could feel her trying to enter his subconscious pass between those layers of his mind meant to be private. There were things he didn't want to recall, things he didn't want to remember-_

_Things he didn't want others to see._

_She pushed and pushed, but his will was unyielding, he could already feel the memories swirling within him, feeding the flames that licked at the recesses of his spirit - feeding his determination - devouring his sanity._

_"You have to control it Nico, it_ is  _within your control, if not the Gods wouldn't have deemed you worthy of wielding it. Don't fight the flow."_

_"I'm," gasp, "trying."_

_She hit him on the back of the head. "No you're not, you're fighting it, the power isn't something you fight, you and it are one and the same, an extension of your basest will and desires, listen to it and find that you are of one mind."_

_"What does it want to accomplish?"_

_"I- I don't-"_

_Another slap. "Then shut up and listen, or do you want to end up insane? If so, by all means continue with what you're doing."_

_Nico gritted his teeth. "Fine." If one thing could be said about him it was his stubborn spirit. He was not one to give up easily; the perk of retaining his sanity was just a plus._

_A really, really big plus._

_He closed his eyes._

_He saw the swirling masses, the shadowy figures, hazy, murky hardly definite, but he knew who they were innately. He knew it was his family all over again. The moment of their death. Fire. Fiery emotions. Broken thoughts. But they all came to the same conclusion._

_Revenge._

_Kill the one who killed his own. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Balance and reconciliation. It's what the arcane craved, the same thing he wanted. To raze the world to the ground. No. Shake his head. Not the world. Tartarus. Kronos. Kronos. Only Kronos. Sweat built on his brow. The core was the same. They both wanted to achieve the same thing, but at the same time it was startlingly different._

_Nico saw what he had to do now. Nico was the trigger - the sight and the battery of the weapon. The weapon didn't care about what it killed. What was in it's way as long as the one it wanted dead was dead. Nico had to guide it, to pull the leash taut when needed and stop it from running wild. That was the agreement, the bargain, the gamble. Could he accept it? Could he control - no - lead this volatile force on the path of just retribution?_

_Yes._

_His power was chaos._

_Destruction._

_The end._

_It was death._

_And he would be the one to unleash it upon the world._

**-Betrothed-**

Apollo sighed - straight blonde wisps sticking up at mildly haphazard angles, and rolled his neck, locking Nico's door with one hand whilst the other massaged the back of his head, his mind elsewhere as he recounted the conversation that had taken place on the carriage ride back to the castle Elysium. The Lost Prince's words ate at his conscious mind like a degrading sickness. But it wasn't just the words that had affected him now was it? It was that sad, lonesome, broken look that had accompanied it, the look of someone just barely hanging onto the hope that somehow things would get better but at the same time realizing that no, nothing will. That things would only get worse from here on out.

_"But you can't"_

Three simple words that held more weight than a ton of bricks. It was true wasn't it? He couldn't do anything, anything at all without risking the wrath of his father's rage. Apollo flinched and rubbed his elbow, wincing at the very thought of it. He remembered the one time he dared cross his father on a matter he was adamant about very clearly. How could he forget?

He'd left a mark.

Still, the golden haired prince couldn't help but wonder how he'd feel in Nico's position. Would he be fairing any better? Probably not. In all honesty he'd probably be far, far worse. The raven haired lad was tougher than his slender figure let on. He radiated authority... a certain regal charm... power.

Apollo knew Nico wasn't one to crack easily and knowing that even this prideful figure was slowly breaking was enough to make himself sick. What could Nico have possibly seen that would send him into such a state of trembling complacency whenever Kronos walked into the room? Apollo feared he didn't want to know.

In a way he looked up to Nico. He idolized him slightly, it was hard not to. He was just the type of person you couldn't help but want to please despite how sour of a mood Nico could be found in, but again could you blame him for having a certain cynical outlook after everything he'd been through?

Apollo's footsteps echoed in the near empty hallways, the hefty book filled with the teachings of philosophers he could care less about slowly began slipping from his grasp. He adjusted it with a slight grunt, temporarily switching hands to wipe a sweaty against the fabric of his tunic before looking up at his surroundings. Somehow he'd wandered to some less used part of the castle, a place he had yet to properly explore. Nothing looked familiar. He made a face. Wonderful.

He sighed, he supposed he could backtrack if he really wanted to, but he was a curious soul by nature and he wondered what secrets this wing of the castle may have.

"I should've left this blasted book in my room." He mumbled as he trudged up a flight of steps. In all actuality he could probably just leave it on the steps and come back to get it later. That would probably be a good idea considering there really were no other markers to remind him of which way he had come from. It wasn't like it really had a high chance of being stolen, the fine layers of dust that covered everything told him that yes, indeed, no one had been down this passageway for many years. Still the notion didn't sit well with him, his stomach twisting in a mildly nauseating manner, the Gods know why.

Was Apollo a coward? Was he truly that afraid to do what his heart told him was right? He must be, how else could he explain away the fear that accompanied him where ever he went. The feeling of cold icy dread crept along his spine, the fear that his father would see him do something he wasn't supposed to, and reprimand him. Scold. Punish-

Abuse.

He almost felt a need to laugh, there he was, too afraid to even leave a book he didn't remotely care about on the ground for five minutes. If he was too scared to even do that, how in all the land was he supposed to help a prisoner? His father would know. Know that he tried to help him, know that he thought of treason, patricide. That's how he justified his cowardice. His father always knew. Always.

Another turn and Apollo barely noticed as the corridors grew slightly dimmer -marginally so. Strange grotesque shapes, statues of horrible atrocities, tortures of the most gruesome sort began to line the walls, glass less open aired windows sending chilly drafts into the corridor. Apollo licked his lips, and resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself, an aborted motion that saved him from having to collect the tome in his arms from the floor.

The way the thin light slipped and slid across the walls, the ceiling, illuminating the... unique- artistry while warping their shadows - pulling and compressing - lengthening and stretching - casting some of the bloodier aspects in shadow whilst others even more disturbing were thrust into horrible clarity, sent chills down his spine. What could this wing have been used for? What had been its purpose?

Had it been a realm for inquiry and torture? That seemed like the most logical conclusion, the lack of light, the way windows were positioned -forced to, at all times, cast shadows across all surfaces, releasing the inner demons of the subconscious mind - how this wing felt utterly isolated from the others - ostracized, all of it supported his assumption. Either that or the di Angelo's had a very peculiar sense of beauty and decor.

That thought managed to bring a small wobbly smile to his face, began to shed some light in the darkness, make the shadows seem less ominous. He focused on his breathing, the steady in and out, the chill it left in his lungs, the heady rush that kept him alive. Yes, that was the one comfort he had, the sounds of his feet against hard stone old as the castle itself, the echo as it reverberated from one wall to the next, tangible, there, real. What was real was what there was to fear, these shadows were nothing but that, shadows, his subconscious run wild. Focus on the actual, the tangible and fear takes a back seat.

A light at the end of the hall, the wind whistled across its opening in an almost mournful sounding cadence, pitches rising and falling in a dynamic not unlike an eulogy for the dead. It sent cold tingles down his spine. Yet he moved towards the pale light, had he not just had the revelation that he would not fear what could not hurt him? His legs carried him towards the exit, the glow weak and flimsy and dour as if even the light of this damnable place had resigned itself to a fate of utter defeat and despair.

He scoffed. When had he gotten such a depressing outlook on life? When had he even begun to see things in such morbid colors, words, phrases? Was it before his father had left his first true mark? Was it when his father began conquering people? When he forced them to move, when his brother began to emulate their father in every way, becoming the cruel sociopath his father wanted them to be? Was it before Tartarus? Was it after? Was it Atlantis? Was it Elysium? Was it himself?

So many variables, so many conclusions, so many possibilities, but did it really matter when it began? He didnt' think so, all that mattered was what he'd do with it, with the knowledge he now contained.

He stepped out of the dank dark, and followed the mournful moaning of the wind.

No.

It wasn't the wind.

It was a voice, a human voice.

Tyson's voice, a voice of someone whose heart may be even more conflicted and weighted with guilt than Apollo's own.

_And if through my pain restitution could be gained_

Apollo walked steadily forward, the innocent lilt of the red haired prince's voice masked something darker, sadder, full of a weight a childlike voice should not contain. Something that basked in the shadows just beneath the surface.

_If through sin punishment was detained_

But Tyson was no child now was he? No he was as old as the rest, yet fate had dealt him a lucky hand, one that had kept him sheltered and naive, a world were all went as he liked it. As others grew accustomed to the world, he became more withdrawn from it, safe behind his masks of make-up and clothes of silk. Hmm... perhaps he wasn't so lucky after all.

_If envy colored the world white_

Apollo felt something stir in his soul, something that made him glance behind him, the words that fell from those lips, colored his skin a ghostly almost transparent shade. Could Tyson realize he was there?

_Would my soul not be claimed as pure?_

Pure or impure it did not matter now did it? Sympathy begets good intentions, yet sympathy does no more than that. It was but a feeling a thing to motivate action, yet more often than not it was pushed aside, locked away - eyes made blind to it as they tried their damnedest to forget.

_Yet it is known through trials and trails long past_

To not know what they knew. To not do what they were compelled to do. To see the horrid face of evil and let it have its way.

_That reality scorns sinners till the last_

Apollo gulped and licked his lips. He was no better than his father now was he? He was just as he was meant to be. The good son. The son that did not interfere. The son that saw the evils around him and did nothing to stop them. Blind. Unaware. Oblivious. His fists clenched.

_If fear holds my heart_

It sent nothing but hot blooded anger through him.

_If bad imprisons good_

In a raging cacophony of confusion, one in which views of reality inverted - became a world in which dark was light and light was dark - would that not then be the apocalypse? If all morals where thrown to wind, if all order was turned to chaos, would that not in itself be some sort of hellish rapture?

_Does that make me no better than a devil?_

Indeed it did. Did it not? And that was probably the saddest truth of all. If he was to have no guilt in his heart - no regrets - then he had no choice. He must swallow his fear, no not swallow... embrace it, face it as it was, understand it and then accept it. If he tossed it aside he'd be exposed, and where his father was concerned being exposed was the same as being dead.

Apollo's eyes snapped up.

_"But you can't"_

His hands trembled, and he clenched them into fists.

Yes he can.

**-Betrothed-**

_"No, Nico, focus you're killing - not helping - it!" Hazel reprimanded, smacking him lightly on the top of his head. Nico gritted his teeth, sweat trailing down his face and exposed chest, muscles tense with the amount of focus he was putting into the task at hand._

_His arms trembled lightly, and his hair was matted to his head, the hot sun beating down on him. He was supposed to be transferring the life of one thing to another, but all he seemed to be able to do was drain it; keeping it to himself._

_"This... t-this isn't as easy as it looks," Nico grunted out, once again opening the flood gate, that invisible "third" all - seeing - eye that he knew his magic resided in, reaching out with tentative fingers as he grasped at the new seed placed in front of him. He took a breath and closed his eyes, felt the world shift as his sense of reality moved to that higher plane, the plane that all things were connected to, the plane of the Arcane._

_At first the incoming waves of nausea had been too much, and the moment he'd enter that dual sense of reality he'd be knocked back out -reeling - gasping for air, vomiting on the grass, body wracked with seizure like spasms, his body unable to withstand the strain it left on him. But that didn't last forever. No, if anything can be said about humans it is their ability to adapt, to grow, to be able to withstand what they previously thought they couldn't._

_And Nico was nothing if not persistent._

_So it grew easier. Each time the shift became a little less harsh, and he lasted in its realm a little longer, until finally he could do it with hardly any effort at all._

_Nico sighed, and waited for the slight dizziness to subside, a part that no matter how good he got at Shifting would never go away - a sensation that was not entirely unpleasant- waiting for that little electric tingle that traveled across his body and made the hair on his arm stand on end settle into something no more obvious than a low hum around his body._

_He opened his eyes, and blinked, letting them focus again as the dual images from the two planes merged into something constant that his feeble human mind could process._

_Hazel nodded and tapped Nico's empty hand - lightly placing the other seed in it- when he opened his fist. "Ready?"_

_Nico took another breath, saw the red and black molten like runes sliding sluggishly across his skin and nodded. "Yeah."_

_"Begin."_

_Inhale. He felt the pull, the darkness settle over the seed in his right hand, felt the greedy tendrils of death grab at it, forcing its way through its crisp pure form. It ravished the seed, ripped it apart, he felt his power chuckle with glee, he imagined it having a sadistic grin as it moved through it, taking the life it craved. It left the one, drained to nothing, lifeless, the small seed that never had a chance to grow - and entered himself. He felt a surge of energy and gasped, felt as it revitalized him; the arcane within him letting out a satisfied sigh._

_Nico bit his lip, life now swirling within him, life that wasn't his own and he redoubled his efforts, as he felt the arcane try to devour it fully. No. That wasn't what he wanted. Move. Move out of him. Move to the other hand. Up and out. Listen to him. He was the trigger. The control, not the arcane. He commanded it, he guided it, it shall listen. It_ must  _listen._

_"Out damn you," he growled out._

_Down from the right arm. Up through the stomach. Across to the left arm. Down again, moving, moving, moving. Closer. Through the wrist. Up to the hand. Almost there. Almost. Listen. Listen. LISTEN!_

_Nico broke skin, his lip now bleeding from the force of his bite. Blood dribbled out of the wound and down his chin and Nico forced harder still. Come on. Come on._

_"Listen to me dammit."_

_A bead of sweat, his body shuddered as the arcane fought his will. Nico grasped at the life just there under the surface, held it, grabbed the speck he could, and tossed it out of the confines of his body. His vessel, and into the direction of the seed._

_Nico let out a shallow breath and dropped to a knee, hands trembling, skin a pasty, ghostly pallor breathing rapid and shallow. Nico stayed there for a moment, resting his head on the crook of his elbow, shakily - with the last ounce of control he had - closing the floodgate of that volatile force that resided within him._

_Hazel waited for Nico's breathing to grow more regular, for the color to return to his skin before speaking._

_"Congratulations Nico."_

_Nico lifted his head shakily and looked up at her, that small action seeming almost too much for him to handle._

_"W-what?" He asked weakly._

_"You succeeded." She clapped lightly a small smirk on his lips. "Look."_

_Nico looked down and opened his fists. In the right there was nothing but a black charred looking mass, Nico sighed, he'd already known he could do that. His affinity was with death, taking was what it did, ending lives was second nature to it. Simple as breathing._

_"Other hand."_

_Nico gulped and opened the other and saw a small sprout from within the seed. His eyes widened, and an almost soft expression crossed his lips. He'd done it, he'd given something life. If only a little._

_Death was Ragnarok. The end. Clearing away all life as they knew it. But yes, as it killed as it took it gave room for the new, the better, the more advanced and it was through this that he was able to do this, even if it was harder. For Death was an agent of life, they worked hand in hand, an equal exchange. Their powers melded into one, like Yin and Yang, a force of unity and harmony._

_Nico let out another breath and fell onto his back shielding his face with his arm, letting the cool breeze wash over him. He didn't want to see. He didn't want to hear. He just wanted to be._

_"I didn't succeed." He murmured after awhile. Hazel raised an eyebrow though he didn't see._

_"I only won."_

_Hazel smirked. Nico was beginning to understand after all._

**-Betrothed-**

High Commander Athena Chase, First of her name, Wife of Deadulus Chase, mother of Annabeth Chase - betrothed of Perseus Jackson Third Prince of Atlantis - stood atop the battlements looking over Olympus, her home, her city - the place she was sworn to protect - and resisted the urge to weep. She was the strategist, the first ever woman assigned to her post and she dishonored them all by not having the foresight to stop this calamity. She should have foreseen the threat and been able to prevent things from going so horribly wrong. Her hands tightened on the rail before her, keen gray eyes swiveling left and right as she watched the hills slowly be devoured by the red hot tendrils of flame; pitch black smoke billowing through the sky, the smell rancid and bitter, burnt flesh and charred bones all mingling together.

"CLOSE THE GATES!" She roared watching the last of the civilians run through them. "ARCHERS AT THE READY!"

Well the last that she could afford to let enter.

The gates began to close, the archers readied their bows, arrows dipped in tar and lit with fire illuminating the sky around the walls with an almost heavenly looking halo. And to some it may have been, to those inside it was a beacon of hope - to those left to die it was but a reminder of what they had to lose.

The Red Widows continued to surround the castle, numbers growing, obviously undeterred by the arrows aimed dead at their armored helms. All they did was stand in a ring, swords sheathed, shields down, surrounding the golden walls, staring up.

Waiting. Patient. Unmoving.

"I don't like this," A voice - gravelly with age - yet still strong and confident called from behind her, "I've seen too much of war to not know a trap when I see one."

Athena turned, eyes quickly registering the man now in front of her, mind cataloging his wrinkles - skin toughened by air, eyes perpetually squinted from years under the wrath of the desert sun - his hair still full a-top his head yet windswept and gray, black eyes beady and sharp, full of a wisdom and intelligence that rivaled her own.

"Chiron," She said after a moment, mouth twisting into the slightest of grimaces, bowing stiffly, sparing just the most minute attention to courtesy before turning back around to gaze upon that sinister circle that surrounded the walls. "I know. I don't like it either."

Chiron hummed and finished walking up the steps, only a little out of breath - a feat that was impressive for a man his age, though it came as no surprise considering his nickname as the Stallion, a man whose heart was as tough as any horse's - with a stature and strength to match. It was said that before he became the King's royal adviser he was sometimes mistaken for a Centaur, his affinity with his horse so fluid that they were thought to be one being.

One destructive being.

"And what do you propose to do about it _High Commander_?" He asked, tone none too kind, gesturing to the outer wall, metal boots clinking on the stone floor as he moved to stand beside her - gold and silver armor clattering lightly in his wake.

Athena said nothing, just surveyed her surroundings, knowing that her next choice would make or break this battle. She could feel it in her bones. She sighed. "What other option do I have?" she said turning her head to look at Chiron from the corner of her eye. Chiron grunted his ascent and Athena nodded - expression turning stony even as her stomach twisted with dread. Her hand raised. She wet her lips. Her voice rang out loud and clear - her call growing in strength as it was echoed across the wall, turning into one dynamic voice.

"FIRE!"

It all happened so fast. Arrows were loosed from bows, flames flying up and plummeting down to the ground, so quick, so powerfully, so many that they were inescapable. Athena watched, Chiron saw, and the archers ignored, already knocking the next volley of arrows, but the Adviser and the High Commander...

They felt fear.

For they saw, they saw what happened in those final moments - they knew those arrows were inescapable -

Yet they never reached their targets.

"By the Gods - "

_CRACK!_

A sound that froze every breathing thing upon the wall.

Athena shook. Chiron paled. An archer screamed.

Everything went to hell.

**-Betrothed-**

"You needa slow down man, you're eating like a man starved."

Percy paused mid bite, cheeks bulging - and glared at the servant in front of him... he thinks his name was Grover. "I  _am_  starved."

Grover rubbed the back of his neck and looked away sheepishly, cheeks starting to burn a dull crimson. "Well yeah - but you know it would kinda suck if you ended up choking and dying before you could even save Sab- I mean - Nico."

The sea-prince swallowed and set down his fork, turquoise eyes looking beyond him. "I don't even know if he  _is_  alive," he murmured, almost to himself. Percy picked up his fork - took another bite, and set it back down, skin paling - everything tasted sour now.

Grover looked up and floundered, quickly striving for something to say that might avert his prince's declining mood, lips working as his mind spit out the first thing that came to mind. "Pineapples!"

Percy looked up, ebony hair bouncing to the side, eyes and lips widening into a surprised "o", he managed a weak grin. "Pineapples?"

Grover had the decency to blush and nodded, rubbing the back of his head again in that nervous, jittery way he had and nodded. "Er... yeah... pineapples... I uh... did you want some?"

"We don't have any."

"You can dream right?"

Percy laughed, a small contained sound, it was clear his inner demons where still there, but at least he wasn't letting them consume him like before. "Yeah... I suppose I can." The sea prince finished the last few items on his plate and pushed it aside, face instantly losing its jovial appearance - the mask of the young adviser - the prince - falling into place. He stood and brushed his robes free of crumbs, before running a hand through his hair - fixing his gaze on Grover.

"Take me to my brother."  _The King_ , he finished in his head.  _Triton is now King of Atlantis._ He gulped and gripped the table for support. He still couldn't quite wrap his mind around that fact. His father was dead, and now it was up to them, a boy barely seventeen with no true knowledge outside war tactics and his own countries affairs - and a brute of a man barely two and a half summers older, who knew even less than he did.

But his mother would help them, he knew she'd pick up the slack. He just wished he didn't have to abandon her so soon after the death of her husband - his _father_.

He shook his head, now was not the time to be feeling overwhelmed, he'd already had a week of being useless and weak - now it was time for him to be strong. He took a breath and his eyes steeled as he released his knuckle whitening hold of the table. Strong for himself. Strong for his father watching from the stars. Strong for his brother and strong for his mother. Strong for his country.

Strong for Nico.

Grover rushed forward and grabbed the plate from the table, putting it back on the cart and nodding emphatically. "Of course! You're brother - the... er...  _King_  - he told me to take you to him when you finished eating anyway... though... if you don't mind me saying... you might want a bath first... "

Percy looked down at himself, took in the dirt under his nails, the smeary un-even tan of filth that covered him, the servant was right, this was no way to carry himself - especially if he wanted anyone to take what he had to say seriously. He sniffed the air, nose wrinkling in distaste - besides - the stench was starting to upset him.

The ebony haired prince nodded his ascent. "I reckon you're right. Have a bath drawn for me Grover."

The servant bowed, a surprised look crossing his face, he obviously didn't expect Percy to remember his name. "Of course mi'lord."

The door closed and Percy sighed, dropping back down into his chair, running a hand across his face before turning to look out his window. He was stressed to say the least, it had only been a few days since he'd finally pushed himself out of his stupor, and yet he was already back into the politics of the realm. He supposed it was to be expected of him.

Only this time there was no one but himself to make Triton see sense.

The outside was chaos, the wreckage from the attack had left them in even worse shape than he'd initially thought. His mother had told him the stores and treasury had been ransacked but somehow... his mind just hadn't put the two together, he blamed it on the fact that up until recently he'd been in a virtually catatonic state. That they were know truly destitute. His kingdom had absolutely nothing left, if Kronos decided to attack again - Percy didn't want to think of the outcome.

Grover returned, the door creaking slightly at the intrusion. "Mi'lord your bath's ready."

Percy turned away from the window and nodded, trying for a smile... he hoped it worked. "Thanks." He stretched and stood before walking briskly towards the exist, Grover sidestepped quickly as Percy strode into the adjourning room, beginning to disrobe before he'd even reached the edge of the pool, clothes dropping haphazardly to the ground without any pretext.

"Have these burned and set a fresh pair outside the door," he said whilst walking into the pool, hand gesturing vaguely behind him - water steaming and inviting - a warm relaxing caress against coiled muscles. He didn't wait for a response, he just lowered himself into the water, letting it wash everything away.

 _My hair is getting long_ he thought to himself, eyes drawn to the dark strands now in his face, he grabbed a few between his fingers - Nico'd always tried to get him to grow his hair out more... Percy brushed the strands aside and reached over to where a bottle of scented oil and soap lay, and lathered them up between the plush was cloth to the left of him.

Slowly the water around him leeched him of his color - slowly the muck and grime from a week of nothingness was washed away - leaving behind startlingly pale (for him) skin. It was still far darker than Nico's own creamy tone but the decrease in his tan was startlingly. It was just another reminder of all that had changed in the past days.

He washed his hair and trimmed his nails, brushed his teeth, cleaned himself until he was red and raw - until steam no longer rose from the pool and the bubbles had all vanished. Percy sighed and climbed out, rolling his neck and pulling his hair back into a short stubby, sorry excuse of a ponytail and walked out the bathroom, towel draped around his waist, hanging dangerously low on his hips. It was a move that if Nico was here would leave the boy staring hungrily in his direction.

Percy set his jaw, and tossed the towel to the ground.

Well Nico wasn't here.

Percy dressed quickly.

**-Betrothed-**

"We'll have to tax them," Triton said, hands folded in front of him, "there's no other way to pay for the damages."

Percy grimaced and shook his head, his brother was being hard headed again, why couldn't he just see damn logic? "No, if we tax them then we lose the support of the people, our hold here is weak enough as it is."

Triton sighed, hand running down his face and tugging at his beard. "Then what the  _hell_ would you have us do Percy? Look around. _We. Have. Nothing_."

Percy open and closed his mouth angrily, eyes flashing before turning away - it wasn't often he was at a lost for words. "I don't know."

Sally cleared her throat, as mildly amusing as it was to watch her two remaining sons bicker over economic affairs, and as much as they really ought to learn how to figure these things out on their own, they really needed to rectify the problem at hand. Prefferably now. They couldn't continue much longer the way they were. It was either they come up with a solution now or risk losing their position of power to rebellion, something they really didn't need.

"You're both right," she mused aloud, "we have nothing, and we  _can not_  by  _any_ means tax our people." She looked at each of them in turn before continuing. "But there _is_ a way out."

Triton raised an eyebrow. "And what would  _that_ be mother?"

Sally sent a sidelong glance in Percy's direction. "We borrow."

Dead silence. Percy gripped the fabric of his robes tightly. This could not be happening, if his mother was suggesting what he thought she was...

Percy licked his lips. "From who?" he whispered.

"The Chase's."

Triton looked between them, realization dawning on his face as he figured out what that name meant. The Chase's. Annabeth's family. Percy's marriage.

"I'm not married yet." Percy managed weakly.

She shrugged. "We ask to move it up, once you and Annabeth are properly united you'll have access to their families wealth - the extra treasury is just what we need."

"Mother I - " Triton began.

Sally groaned, looking between her two sons, one looking decided apprehensive, the other like he was about to be sick. "Oh what's the big deal? I thought you'd be happy Percy. Finally getting an excuse to see your beloved again."

Percy's stomach twisted at the word  _"beloved"._ "What about the quest father commanded of me?" He tried, desperately trying to avoid the coming request.

She waved a hand. "Do it on the way, do it after, I don't care, just get the money. We need it."

The sea prince looked over to his older brother, a last ditch attempt, one last silent plea, but there was no kindness in his brother's eyes anymore. No. There was just the face of a king.

Percy sighed in defeat, vision swimming slightly. "I'll draw up the proposal."

Sally smiled, Triton merely nodded, and conversation resumed around him, but he couldn't keep up, he could only murmur his consent and sit there stunned.

He was to marry Annabeth.

He was  _supposed_  to marry Annabeth.

He should have been happy.

But all he could feel was dread.

**-Betrothed-**

Annabeth stood behind her door, knife in hand, heart pounding erratically in her chest and took a breath, lip pulled tight between her teeth, ears straining to hear over the cacophonous noise of the outside. She wasn't crazy, she knew she'd heard someth-

_Creeeeeeeaaaaaaaaak!_

A footstep.

Annabeth dropped to her knees and quickly wiped her sweating palms against her dress, setting her knife down as silently as she could, closing her eyes, breathing. In. In. In. In.

_One._

Step. Closer this time.

_Two._

Another footfall, this one even closer - from the sound of it a couple yards away at most. She grabbed her knife, shaking hands steadying as she took her last breath, centering herself completely.

_Three._

She opened her eyes and swung the door open, letting it slam against the wall with a loud bang. She could tell from the sound of the steps that at least one of her attackers was female - about her weight - probably a tad shorter, meaning she was nimble and probably had good reflexes. She flung her dagger, aiming low, not intending to kill, only to wound, and propelled herself forward, down the hall, turning her body so her shoulder was in front of her and barreling into her would be assailant - blonde hair swirling wildly in her wake.

A surprised gasp was all she heard before they were both going down, Annabeth already unsheathing another dagger from her right legs ankle sheath and laying it across the girls neck.

"Annabeth!  _Annabeth_!" The girl beneath her gasped. "Get the  _hell_ off me!"

Annabeth blinked. "Thalia?"

"The one and only," she grumbled and Annabeth quickly got off her friend and back on her feet, re-sheathing he knives.

"Oh, by the gods, I'm sorry, I didn't realize - I thought - it was dark and - "

Thalia pinched the blonde's lips closed. "Shut up. It's fine 'kay? I get it, we're under attack and all that jazz."

Annabeth nodded and Thalia let go. "Where's Jason?"

Thalia groaned, Annabeth winced, she guessed that was probably the wrong thing to say.

"Off being Mr. Hero and honor and all that," She grimaced. "He's going to get himself killed."

"I don't think so, I mean, I've seen Jason fight, and the chances of him dying are fairly slim, excluding factors like friendly fire and freak accidents."

Thalia blinked then laughed. "You really  _are_ Athena's daughter, but seriously you don't know what it's like out there... their are these... these  _men_ clad in black armor - "

"The Red Widows, yes."

Thalia paused again. "How - never mind - anyway, they've breached the walls and they... they're kind of indestructible."

Annabeth hummed and began walking down the hall. "I don't know about that."

"Where are you going?"

The blonde turned and smiled faintly at her friend. "Why to the library. I  _am_  Athena's daughter after all."

**-Betrothed-**

_**Sins of Forbidden Love** _

**-End-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 is in progress expected to be done by the end of the month (AO3's officially caught up with FF.Net) As always I'll post a teaser of pt 4! Please Review! Critique! Kudo's watever D; GIMMEE YOUR LOVE!
> 
> -Betrothed-  
> Sins of Forgotten Love
> 
> "So, tell me again why the hell we're barricaded in the bloody library when there's a bloody war going on outside?" Thalia hissed -- eyes fixed on the large stained glass windows across from her -- fist closing a little tighter around the hilt of her spear every time there was a sudden flash or an especially heart-wrenching scream or an explosion that rocked the very ground she stood on. Light filtered through their panes -- distorted in a sluggish and frightening manner; sweat pooled between her fingers. "I really hate to be the voice of reason here, but need I remind you that we're surrounded by bloody books with fire less than a fucking foot away? I'd prefer to not become barbecue a week before my nineteenth birthday." Nevermind the fact she may die tonight anyway -- hacked to pieces and left on the side of the road for the crows and rats -- but she preferred not to think about that.  
>  It was easier that way.  
>  "Oh, do refrain from using the word 'bloody' if you could Thalia dear, we have enough blood on our doorstep as it is." Annabeth murmured -- squinting in the dim light since they (Annabeth) felt it wiser to not light any candles in fear of alerting the enemy to their presence --and flipped another page in the enormous tome before her. "Libraries hold power, they hold knowledge, and knowledge is what we need right now, knowledge in whatever dark powers those Red Widows use to keep themselves immortal. If we can find the source of that arcane energy we can find the weakness. That, my friend, is reason."

**Author's Note:**

> Ello all... my most recent Perico fic that I've done :3 FF.net doesn't seem to really appreciate it so... I figured I'd cross post it here where the fans seem a tad more sophisticated in terms of writing/what they'll read. So hope you'll all enjoy :3 And tell me what you think! Pt 2 and 3 are done already (Currently working on Pt 4) So I'll plan on posting that part sometime next week (unless you all would prefer it to be released now.... ) anyway TA TA~
> 
> EXCERPT FROM PT 2 SINS OF LUST FILLED LOVE:
> 
> "Ni-c-co," His voice came out stronger this time, but now it was uncontrollable, emotion spilled over his eyelids in the form of hot salty tears, tears of remembering, tears he didn't want shed. They fell down his face in rivulets, soaking his face, a physical manifestation of his pain. A pain he didn't want to feel. It was too harsh, too concrete, too real. He didn't want this reality to be true. He only wished to remember, to remember his love as he was, beautiful and alive, not this dark mysterious dead that he didn't want to even contemplate.
> 
> "Nico," Percy curled into his side bringing the sheet with him, balling it up against him, burying his face in its depths, imagining it was the raven haired youth from his memories. He sighed. "Nico." It was a contented sound, already the pain was starting to fade, already Nico was appearing in his arms. He pulled the sheet closer, nuzzling what he imagined to be the crook of the boy's neck.
> 
> "Stop that, seaweed brain, I have to study, something you should be doing yourself."
> 
> Percy smiled. "Sorry, Neeks, you're just too cute." He whispered.
> 
> Nico blushed and turned away. "Whatever happened to the days where you couldn't stand me?"
> 
> "Oh, I don't know, Nicky, guess you just worked your magic on me." Percy said nipping lightly at the imagined boys neck.
> 
> "Dammit, taught you too well for my own good hmm?"
> 
> "Perhaps you did... perhaps you did..."
> 
> The pain was gone. He couldn't feel anything anymore, just the weight of his love in his arms, the sound of his voice in his ear. Memories surged through his mind; the real world pulled away, he fell back into his mind.
> 
> He remembered.


End file.
